


MODFIC

by astriferousEndgame



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-08-27 11:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 27
Words: 163,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8399359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/astriferousEndgame/pseuds/astriferousEndgame
Summary: Ever been craving the only piece of literature in which everyone is holding the Idiot Ball, except for the antagonist, whose only intellectual failing is expecting everyone else not to be a total idiot, but you can't find anything meeting that description?Neither have I.MODFIC.- NixIf you’re not excited for the Modfic it’s your loss because there are absolutely amazing scenes in it. You don’t have to like us. You don’t even have to like Homestuck. But if you can appreciate a cast of misfits (including an egotistical furry, a resident of Gravity Falls, and a girl who survived the apocalypse only to get killed around fourteen times) who get into hilariously stabby adventures, you should definitely read it.- Mod Eri





	1. A Crimson Apple

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an RP by myself (Mod Nix) and the rest of the mods at http://homestuck-session-analysis.tumblr.com/. Also being mirrored on FFN at https://www.fanfiction.net/s/12202786/1/MODFIC and available for download (now with color and improved fonts!) at http://daroquinn.zohosites.com/modfic-a-series.html.

Tuesday, November 3, 2015

His head spinning (along with his chair), Tommaso Mambelli coughs on the smoke in his room (his windows, door locked) and stares at the blank LibreOffice document. He _ought_ to be doing his aquatic sci essay, but in reality, it’s absurdly easy to find substitute essays to a class that’s been taught through the same assignments every year. Honestly, they have _got_ to get a new professor. 

A _bloop_ ing message sounds, and Tommaso forgets all about the shortcomings of Prof. Schwartz. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** began pestering **sexySlytherin[SS]!** [6:01PM]

  
  


VP –--> SS: did u get the game yet or is ur mail sucky

SS –--> VP: lol wut happend w/ the group hat? 

VP –--> SS: want me 2 make a new 1? 

VP –--> SS: the old 1 was glitch af

SS –--> VP: y

SS –--> VP: ye

  


Meanwhile: 

Halfway down the continent, Ali Bradford adjusts her chair to see the monitor more clearly as she selects her chat buddies. A ding goes off as the chat is made. 

  
  


**vividParadox** opened MEMO **MOD GROUP** on  BOARD **MY HAT!** [6:04PM]

  


VP: did any1 get the game yet or just me

SS: idk lol my malebox is donstares

VP: asswipe

VP: i be back gotta clean shit

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is **Online!** **[** 6:05PM]

  
  


ER: you think i got hard cash bruh??? its not like i paid for advanced shipping man. 

SS: k ho ; )

SS: @ER omg

VP: beck

AI: im alive

SS: wb

AI: i think

ER: you may be. 

ER: it wouldnt be hard to stop you from being (;

VP: oh look it’s lil Navo sup

AI: i am here what is happening

VP: they didn’t get the games yet did u

SS: ohey btw do i rely need to do dat ask bc im too lay-z

VP: you lil shit of course you do

AI: i just so happened to have gotten this game

VP: get rekt me and AI gonna rek u all

AI: mmhmm

SS: dems fiting words

ER: did you two already get the game???

AI: i did, yes

SS: idk i dident chek 4 an hour

ER: oh wow, a whole hour. it could be right outside your door. 

AI: ss have i told you your spelling is horrible?

  
  


Ali lets out an audible laugh to no one in particular... She reflects on her crushing loneliness as the brief sound of jou fades away into awkward silence. 

  
  


VP: okay SS I’m just going to let you talk in your verbal vomit while I stop mocking you =)

SS: shhhhh fine ill chek

VP: you speak so well in written paragraphs but your chat is horrendous. 

ER: tom i swear you understand nothing about syntax. 

AI: alrighty, is anyone going to play this game

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom, walking through twisting tendrils of weed-smoke and high af, stumbles down the stairs. The light burns against his dark-accustomed retinas as he opens the door, hissing at it, and manages to locate the mailbox. 

  
  


ER: i mean, i will once i have the game

ER: if i have the time

AI: well that sucks

VP: is SS always like this? 

AI: how come you didn’t get the game yet

ER: @VP its not like weve known him for years.

AI: i forgot who ss is

AI: refresh me

  
  


_Well, fuckarooni._ Lamenting the curious absence of the game discs, Tom walks back to the house, experiences some rather significant difficulty climbing the stairs, and finally plops back into his desk chair, in approximately that order. He pulls the wheeled chair (and himself in it) back to his laptop. 

  
  


VP: I’ve just never noticed until now

SS: it me tommaso mod tom necromnace deaht binder sextroadinare etcetc

VP: nice

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo grunts in frustration as she fails to correctly play yet another chord on her guitar. _God fucking damn bullshit fuckening god damn_ \- 

  
  


SS: and were u 3 talkin shit behind my bak

AI: ah, yes

AI: not shit, just speculation

AI: tomasso the tabacco addict

ER: HEARD THAT YOU WERE TALKING SHIT

ER: AND U DIDNT THINK THAT I WOULD HEAR IT

AI: why don’t we just call you tobacco? 

ER: probably because he doesnt smoke tobacco, numbnuts. 

SS: dont make me be like “and heres this bitch who had a lot to talk to me last chat, u guys wuts good” 

AI: i don’t memorize all the drugs people take

SS: and stfu geez lets play

AI: so you got the game? 

SS: n

ER:if you hadnt remembered... tommaso... dear... one of us still DOESNT have the game. 

SS: n as in no

VP: dirk this isn’t all about you

AI: this is confusing

ER: what the FUCK did you say to me ali???

AI: why did i agree to this? 

VP: ...sorry? 

ER: everything i do is important, i am the backbone of this group???

AI: no

AI: since when

ER: since always, navo. 

SS: u girls fite if u want, ill play as son as i get the game

ER: no, wait for me!!

VP: that’s a bit offensive, don’t you think tom? 

SS: nah w/e brb

AI:sigh

SS: gotta do this dumb adept ask

VP: same

AI: unlike all of you, i actually completed my asks

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali spins away from her desk and admires her manga collection. Why does she have so many books of _Ao No Exorcist_? 

  
  


AI: at least, i think i did

  


Meanwhile: 

Navo’s still playing her guitar. 

  


ER: whos responsible for the keeping track of the assignments this month??? 

  


Meanwhile: 

Ali notices the chat and rushes back to her computer. 

  
  


AI: does anyone know the chords to “kill your heros”? cause i cant find them

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tommaso switches off group messages. He needs to get some sleep, he’s been up since, like… something. 

  


VP: wasn’t Navo in charge of assignments? And not me sorry

ER: im gonna go, ive got bullshit essays to write

AI: yes me, im in charge here

AI: but seriously i need these chords

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline!** [6:38PM]

  
  


VP: okay. also i think SS is a little more... disconnected than usual. Should I text his phone? 

AI: yes do that

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is on **Do Not Disturb [** **MOD GROUP** **]!** [6:39PM]

  


Meanwhile: 

Ali texts SS’s mobile anyway. 

  
  


Hey; did you fall asleep or something?  
We’re discussing the game!

  
  


VP: not picking up. Drat. 

AI: ugh

  


Meanwhile: 

Tommaso wakes up to the text notification. 

  
  


Uggh pls I had like no sleep last nite 

  


AI: do you think we even need him? 

  
  


He turns off his phone and goes back to sleep. 

  
  


AI: but im guessing no one knows the chords to that song, alright

VP: sorry!

VP: might I ask what chords are? 

AI: guitar chords

AI: aka a series of notes played at once

VP: Wow. I can’t play more than one note at once. 

VP: is guitar fun? 

AI: very

VP: ah. The clarinet is also a fun instrument, but I don’t like playing it very much

  


**absentIllustrator [AI]** has changed their chumhandle to **carbonatedCorpse** **[** **CC]!** [6:57PM]

  
  


CC: at any rate i find guitar much better than clarinet

VP: That’s a little... Rude. 

CC: what did you expect from me? 

VP: Common curtesy? 

CC: wrong abbreviation for cc, darling

VP: Sorry. My bad. 

CC: its alright

VP: Do you know if Tom is coming back soon? You and I... Can’t really...

CC: who knows? 

VP: Thought you would’ve. Sorry. 

CC: shrug

VP: You okay? You’re acting more irritable than normal. 

CC: me? oh no its just these chords

CC: wont

CC: play

VP: I feel your pain. Do you know how hard it is to play sixteenth notes in groups of 12 in forte all whilst maintaining concert level embouchure?

CC: well i also play flute too, remember that

CC: so yes i do

VP: Maybe we could play a piece together! 

CC: yes we should

CC: when we get in the game

VP: Is it possible to take instruments with you? 

CC: if its in your house, yes very

VP: Interesting

  


**MY HAT** is now **Inactive**. [7:17PM]


	2. Getcha Head in the Game

Wednesday, November 4, 2015

**darudeSandstorm [DS]** is now **private messaging** **sexySlytherin [SS]!** [4:32AM]

  


DS: Mod  Tom, are you awake? 

SS: ug no

SS: wut do u want

DS: I’ve just come to ask if you could aid me on one of my asks. 

DS: I originally took it believing it to be a power assignment ask but have now fallen into a quandary, as the asker also asked for truenames and team mechanics, and you know how bad I am at those.

SS: i dont but idk nams

DS: Normally I wouldn’t ask you but I’ve run out of options. 

DS: Based on the personalities, I called one an adept with the ability to transliterate all languages, one a magiphage, and one a seer. The problem is that I then read the entire ask and found that they wanted to know fighting strategies.

DS: Their team is composed of entirely passive members. 

SS: idk they dpo seem 2 simialiair

SS: wow that werd got away from me

DS: Indeed it did. 

SS: mayb jsu give em physicaa ofenses

SS: idk

DS: I knew I should have waited until the other Mods were online.

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online!** [4:44AM]

  
  


DS: Perhaps I can get an actual answer then, but thank you for your “insight”. 

SS: teh tranltiesation adpet could probs do sgiils? 

DS: You know as well as I do that sigils are an individual study. I don’t think that’d help them terribly much with their team practic e. 

SS: tru

SS: wel ccs online

SS: gudnite

  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **private messaging** **sexySlytherin [SS]!** [4:51AM]

  
  


CC –-- > SS: yo are you alive? 

SS –--> CC: ye for a bit but i was abut to slep again

SS –--> CC: wuts up

CC –--> SS: are you the only one online? 

CC –--> SS: DS was on for a hot second there

SS –--> CC: aprently

CC –--> SS: huh

SS –--> CC: apperatley

SS –--> CC: fuk it

CC –--> SS: you really need to learn how to spell

SS –--> CC: wut hapend to suburbs

SS –--> CC: i now how but the skreens fuzzy

CC –--> SS: sigh

CC –--> SS: anyway the game has to wait a bit

SS –--> CC: y

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [7:29AM] 

VP: Alright! 

SS: y rnt u guys playin the game? 

CC: i mean

CC: i want to

SS: ? 

SS: so y rnt u

CC: no ones online

SS: ohhh k

CC: anyway, its time for me to bounce schooltime

SS: k cya

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Offline!** [7:32PM]

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online!** [7:59AM]

  
  


ER: what the fuck is UP??? 

ER: hello??? 

ER: answer me motherfuckers. 

ER: so i STILL dont have that fucking game yet, like what the fuck??? how hard is it to deliver a fucking disc to someones house??? 

ER: whatever someone reply when theyre online. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Inactive!** [8:00AM]

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **ignoring you.!** [8:01AM]

  
  


ER: look, i found the custom input dialog.

CC: er, sometimes i don’t understand you

ER: you know i so rarely understand you, love. 

ER: have a good day? 

CC: you could say that

ER: surely nothing happened to make your day bad??? 

ER: never YOU, navo the self-centered??? 

ER: navo the egocentric. 

ER: navo the sexy af. (;

CC: eye roll

ER: oh, but you KNOW you are.

CC: of course i am

ER: how could you not be??? 

ER: hey, did you get the game yet??? 

ER: because i sure as hell didnt. 

ER: the email says its late in delivery, it should be here within the next week. 

ER: a WEEK, navo. it was supposed to be here by YESTERDAY! 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [8:10AM]

  


VP: Didn’t get the game yet, huh? 

ER: hello. 

ER: and no. 

VP: Really am sorry, ER. 

ER: you better be!! it is TOTALLY your fault that i havent received the discs yet. 

ER: i mean, who elses fault COULD it be??? 

VP: ...the shipper’s fault? 

ER: indeed. for you see, my slow friend, i was being SARCASTIC. 

ER: so youve got it then??? 

CC: i fell asleep what happened,

VP: CC, ER hasn’t received the game yet. 

VP: I was the first to get it! : )

CC: good for you? 

ER: youd better not have started playing yet. 

ER: im BOUND to be the best one HERE!! 

CC: i haven’t

ER: the best one besides you, i mean.

VP: It’s a group game; I wouldn’t think about playing without everyone! 

ER: good. 

  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Offline!** [8:23AM]

  
  


VP: Drat. 

ER: ...okay. 

ER: so what is this game even supposed to be??? youre the one that knows the most about it, i think. 

ER: do we get to compete??? 

VP: Actually, CC showed it to me. And I don’t think it is a competition game? 

ER: oh. damn!! i was looking forward to kicking your ass. (;

ER: what do you do then???

VP: There might be a race of sorts? I remember CC telling me about another level we can reach and first to reach it gets admiration? 

ER: wow, ADMIRATION, what a prize. 

  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online!** [8:29AM]

VP: Goodie! CC, explain to ER what kind of game this is. 

CC: oh man. 

ER: yeah tell me, what is it???

CC: alright, dear

CC: this game is a simulation of sorts. we can compete, although it is not required

ER: awesome!!

VP: But we can still work together, right?

ER: we can work together when its convenient.

CC: since we already know im going to be the leader of this... 

VP: Oh. I see. 

VP: I was thinking... Could I maybe lead?

ER: oh, i am TOTALLY calling team captain for SOME team. 

CC: huff

ER: team apollo.

VP: ...

CC: how about we all play separate then? 

CC: we bring each other in, then ignore each other

ER: i dont know about that plan. 

VP: That is a “no” to me leading then? 

ER: i want teams.

CC: well it’s either my way or the highway

CC: so I’m leader

ER: co-captains? 

CC: ...

CC: that could work

ER: itll be easier to control them with the two of us. 

VP: I don’t have a say in this, do I? 

CC: no you dont

VP: Fantastic. 

CC: exactly

ER: oh, pay attention, ali. how often does your voice even matter anyway??? 

VP: I don’t know if I want to play this anymore. 

ER: oh my god ali. 

CC: too bad

ER: we both know youre just trying to guilt-trip us into not playing. 

VP: No one cares if I do and you don’t need me to play!

  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Offline!** [8:34AM]

  
  


ER: is navos internet okay??? 

VP: I don’t know. 

ER: anyway, you can head the opposing team.

VP: Really???

ER: apollo versus... whatever your team name is!!

ER: power duo navo and dirk versus weakling ali. itll be great!!

VP: Thanks. I think. 

ER: youre welcome. 

ER: hey, i had this weird dream the other night. 

VP: Oh dreams! 

ER: i was in this place that looked like my bedroom but everything was purple??? it was really strange. 

ER: all i remember before waking up was that when i looked out the window i felt like i could hear something whispering. 

VP: Wow. Strange dream!

ER: it was weird man!! i felt really alone for some reason. 

ER: like, isolated. 

ER: it was kind of freaking me out. 

VP: I see. 

VP: On a lighter note, how does “Team Victoria” sound? It means victory in Latin! 

ER: its also, you know, a name. 

ER: like queen victoria.

VP: But my definition is different.

ER: it sounds fine to me.

VP: That’s a first!

ER: not QUITE as good as apollo or something. after all, were named after a GOD and youre just a queen, whats a queen to a god??? 

ER: but if you like it. 

VP: I’ll just... find another name. 

ER: how about team DIRUS??? 

ER: it sounds POWERFUL. 

ER: its latin for ominous!!

VP: I’m starting to like “Ares”.

ER: war versus truth. 

ER: i love it.

VP: Great! I think this is one of the first times you’re agreeing with me. 

ER: well, you know theres no point in having strategy when the opposing team can just predict what youre going to do. its good though!! good enough. 

ER: who do you want on your team??? 

VP: Wait. Were you calling me predictable? 

ER: oops!! but also, apollo is the god of prophecy. 

ER: i want rory. 

VP: i could have SS then? 

ER: sure!! weve got, what, 6 of the mod group in here already??? so that means team apollo is already full!! 

VP: ?

ER: 3 people to each team!! so far. 

ER: but if anyone else in the group joins, i want first pick. 

VP: Okay. SS and... I want Navo!

ER: navo already chose apollo, silly!!

ER: were co-captains, remember??? 

VP: That... That sucks. 

ER: youve got tommaso, you, and blitz. youre not happy with your team??? 

ER: i mean, i guess i could go to them and see if they want to switch after i tell them you dont want them. 

VP: No i am! But I just wanted Navo is all.

ER: sorry ali!! you probably should have predicted id get her. she is my girlfriend and all. 

ER: well, girlfriend, boyfriend, VOIDfriend. depends on the mood. 

VP: Sorry, did it seem like I was being rude?? Sorry!!!

ER: its okay. i just thought itd have been kind of obvious. 

ER: i mean, we ARE dating.

VP: I’m not really one to involve myself in the social life of others. 

ER: wait, did you not know??? 

VP: No.

ER: me and navo are datemates!!

VP: Congrats! 

ER: shes hot too so its good. (;

VP: Oh. 

ER: so its settled then!!

ER: team apollo: dirk, navo, rory

team ares: ali, tommaso, blitz

VP: On another note, would you know why a clarinet is more sharp than usual? 

ER: ...it just suddenly got sharper???

VP: Yeah, no warning either!

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online!** [8:51AM]

  


CC: meep.

VP: CC!

ER: hello, beautiful. 

CC: hello

ER: read the history hot stuff, we decided the teams. 

ER: i picked rory for us, shes got blitz and tommaso. 

VP: : )

ER: also, shes calling herself team ares. 

ER: hey i dont think i ever asked you, what do you want me to call you??? d8m8, boyfriend, girlfriend, voidfriend??? 

ER: ali didnt know we were dating apparently.

CC: oh

VP: I’m out of the loop.

CC: i mean technically im your girlfriend 

CC: but it doesn’t really matter

ER: oh my god. 

ER: technically??? 

ER: did i make a mistake about my d8m8s gender??? 

ER: are you not the genderfluid child??? 

CC: I mean but like technically

  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [8:58AM]

  


VP: Hello friend!

CC: yo

SS: moning

SS: moaning* bc ug being awake

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Inactive!** [9:00AM]

  
  


VP: SS did you hear about teams? 

SS: skiming thru it

SS: im on team Victoria? i think dats a rome godes but i cant rember

VP: I changed the name to Team Ares.

SS: ah so the war god

VP: Indeed! 

SS: i aproof

SS: apf=rove*

VP: Are you alright?

SS: fuk my keybord

SS: ohey i did the ask after a wile

VP: Are you under the influence again? 

SS: mabe

VP: I still cannot believe how professional you are in asks. Even when influenced.

SS: ye i rly try

SS: so wuts up

VP: My sims just got married!

SS: omg thats grate

VP: They both were single moms. Now they’re one big family! 

SS: nice

VP: They eloped, which I don’t fully approve of, but oh well! 

SS: lol

  
  


It’s 9 in the morning. 

  
  


SS: im goin 2 chek the male again

VP: Your improper spelling kills me inside. 

SS: ik u luv it

SS: brb

VP: Alright! 

  
  


The blurry house thankfully does not yield many obstacles to Tom’s ventures outward. The wintry darkness of November Oregon outdoors quite thoughtfully lets him breathe normal air without being blinded by the sun. There is still nothing in his mailbox, though. He ponders the challenges of potentially sobering up and getting to school. He promptly places the nearest hammock (incidentally located in his neighbor’s backyard) and falls asleep, once again leaving his fellow mods no way of contacting him. After a couple of minutes… 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Idle!** [9:27AM]

  
  


VP: aw man. 

ER: see you nerds!! block 1 begins, this chemistry bullshit aint gonna do itself. 

**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline!** [9:33AM]


	3. Power in the Blood

Thursday, November 5, 2015

**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [3:31PM]

  


VP: Anybody here to chat? 

  


**darudeSandstorm [DS]** is now **No longer idle!** [4:46PM]

  


VP: Hello! 

DS: Greetings. 

VP: How was your day? 

  


**eroticParaphernalia [EP]** is now **Online!** [4:46PM]

  


VP: Oh. My. 

DS: That’s... new. 

  


**eroticParaphernalia [EP]** has changed their chumhandle to **entropicRelativity [ER]!** [4:46PM]

  


ER: wait, fuck, i just realized paraphernalia starts with a p, not an r. 

VP: Why was it that in the first place?? 

ER: no comment.

VP: Not even a slight answer? 

ER: lets just say there was a mutual misunderstanding about the meaning of “horseplay”. 

ER: ugh. 

DS: Dirk, if you’ll forgive me for being crass: What the fuck. 

ER: oh hello, here comes the pretentious asshole brigade.

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** renamed MEMO **RE: PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE BRIGADE** on BOARD **MY HAT**.  [4:48PM]

  
  


DS: Well that’s just plain rude you ignorant shitstick. 

ER: ah yes. now i can understand you. 

ER: you filthy cunt. 

VP: DIRK! 

VP: Watch your language! 

ER: what??? he called me a shitstick. 

VP: That isn’t an excuse to retaliate! 

ER: ignominious pleb. 

ER: speaking of which, youre on my team. 

DS: You started the whole ordeal, Dirk.

ER: FUCK OFF. 

ER: and youre on my team for the game. 

ER: me and navo are co-heading one.

VP: Did I miss something??? 

VP: Why do you two just hate each other??? 

ER: ali, blitz, tommaso v you, me, and navo!! 

ER: join us, you ignorant fuck. itll be fun.

VP: My team’s going to win! 

DS: Why do we hate each other? Genetics, probably. Perhaps our ancestors were once locked in an eternal battle and they’ve handed the burden to us. 

ER: theres no such thing as race memories, dumbass. 

DS: That was a... joke, per se. 

VP: Can you two just not argue for once! 

ER: do you even fucking know what ‘per se’ means, rory??? 

ER: ‘per se’: intrinsically, in and of itself, you illiterate childish dick. 

DS: per se

adverb

by or in itself or themselves; instrinsically

“it is not these facts per se that are important” 

synonyms: in itself, of itself, by itself, in and of itself, as such, intrinsically

ER: then you know it had no place in that sentence. 

DS: Look, I didn’t waste my time studying English or foreign languages. 

ER: arent you the one always lording your ‘perfect syntax’ over EVERYONE ELSE??? 

VP: Dirk, get your head out of your FUCKING asshole and give it a REST for once!!

ER: why the fuck are you yelling at ME??? he started it!! 

DS: No, I believe you started it. Idiot. 

VP: I DON’T CARE WHO STARTED IT; I’M ENDING IT! 

VP: Both of you need to learn how to act like adults. 

ER: you were the one who wont stop kinkshaming.

VP: When did I do that????

ER: not you ali. 

ER: “without sounding crass, what the fuck?” 

ER: let people do their fucking thing. 

ER: leave them alone. 

VP: RORY, DIRK, JUST END IT. STOP LOOKING FOR A FIGHT, DIRK AND YOU DON’T NEED TO ALWAYS RETALIATE, RORY.

DS: “Erotic paraphernalia” is not something I like to see emblazoned on my screen the moment I come home. 

ER: ive seen your likes, rory. 

ER: you have no place, you hypocrite. 

DS: My likes are private, Dirk. 

ER: they are now. 

ER: werent always.

VP: FUCK THIS BULLSHIT!!! 

  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Inactive!** [4:57PM]

ER: look what you did for ali, you fuck. 

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline!** [4:57PM]

  


DS: That was as much your fault as mine. 

  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [5:16PM]

  
  


VP: Are they gone? 

VP: I really don’t like it when Dirk gets angry. 

VP: They’re narcissistic anyway but when they’re angry it’s even worse. 

  


**darudeSandstorm [DS]** is now **private messaging vividParadox [VP]**!

  


DS \---> VP: Don’t tell them this, but I wish there was a way to end this conflict. 

VP \---> DS: There is, though! 

DS \---> VP: And what would that be? 

DS \---> VP: Please, enlighten me. 

VP \---> DS: When Dirk is on a rampage, you can just let it go. 

VP \---> DS: Don’t make them pay, so to speak. 

DS: That’s against my principles. 

VP \---> DS: DS

VP \---> DS: FRANKLY, I DON’T GIVE A FUCK WHAT YOUR PRINCIPLES ARE. 

VP \---> DS: SUCK UP YOUR FUCKING ALLEGED “PRINCIPLES” AND END THIS DISPUTE.

DS \---> VP: Look, why don’t you tell them to back the fuck off. 

VP \---> DS: Don’t you think I’ve tried? 

DS \---> VP: I think we can sum up our dispute with the following sentence. 

DS \---> VP: An unstoppable force meets an unmoving object. 

VP \---> DS: One of them needs to go against their ways.

DS \---> VP: While I’m generally not a very passionate person, I will not back down from a fight. 

DS \---> VP: It’s my nature. 

VP \---> DS: “a body at rest will remain at rest unless an outside force acts on it, and a body in motion at a constant velocity will remain in motion in a straight line unless acted upon by an outside force." I will be your outside force.

  


** carbonatedCorpse [CC] ** is now  ** Online! ** [5:20PM]

  


** vividParadox [VP]  ** is now  ** no longer private messaging darudeSandstorm [DS]! ** [5:20PM]

  
  


VP: CC god bless your soul. 

VP: I’m not alone in this. Rory and Dirk are going at it again. 

CC: really? 

CC: come on!! 

VP: I know, right?? 

CC: sigh

DS: Technically, Dirk has left. 

DS: The dispute is over

VP: For now. 

CC: oh man I missed Dirk

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online!** [5:22PM]

ER: ugh, hes still here. 

ER: @Navo you wont have to once rory admits hes wrong. 

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline!** [5:22PM]

  


DS: I’m not wrong you fuck. 

VP: Both of you are wrong! 

CC: gah! 

VP: We cannot play this game with this type of dispute. 

DS: How can we both be wrong? Dirk went at me for no reason.

CC: this is pathetic

VP: Don’t play victim. 

  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Offline!** [5:24PM]

  


VP: See? 

DS: You made the same general remarks I did, and he still picked me out of the crowd to start a fight with. 

VP: Drop. Your. Fucking. Act. 

VP: I don’t give a fuck anymore. 

VP: You either apologize, or no one will play the game. 

DS: What’s so important about the game anyway? 

DS: I have personal problems of my own, I don’t have time for games. 

VP: I read some things about it. 

VP:[http://](http://mspaintadventures.wikia.com/wiki/Rose%E2%80%99s_walkthrough)[walkthroughs.com](http://mspaintadventures.wikia.com/wiki/Rose%E2%80%99s_walkthrough)[/](http://mspaintadventures.wikia.com/wiki/Rose%E2%80%99s_walkthrough)01123583145943707741561785381909987

DS: Oh, wow, so convincing. 

VP: This thing is terrifying in theory.

DS: Exactly why we should stay the fuck away. 

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online!** [5:26PM]

  


ER: i wouldve just studied or something, but thats boring. 

VP: The only way we can survive this is if we play the game.

DS: And my god this article is more longwinded than I am. 

ER: whoa what the fuck is this??? 

ER: UM. 

VP: The game walkthrough. 

ER: are you sure we want to play this??? 

VP: we play this we survive we don’t we die dirk!! 

ER: “once you are playing, there is no longer anything you can do.” 

ER: thats... seriously ominous. 

DS: This reads like it would kill my own family. Not that that’s a bad thing, but still. 

VP: It kills anyone who doesn’t play.

ER: on the other hand, if rory doesnt want to play, im all for it. 

ER: i never liked humanity anyway. 

VP: BOTH OF YOU WHUST THE FUF, UPqqq

VP: IM FUCK,ING DONE WIHRT THIS

DS: What about my friends outside our group? 

DS: Will I ever see them again?

VP: BOTH OF WOY JUST STOP ARGUING AND POKAY THE GAME

DS: Are we just going to leave our friends to rot.

DS: Do you guys really think you’re more important than them? 

ER: play the game, kill your parents too. 

ER: -chanting- kill your parents kill your parents kill your parents

VP: THEN DON’T PLAY. DIE. I DONT CARE MUCH RIGHT IOW

VP: I DONT CARE WHO PLAYS AND WHO DOESNT

ER: how much time do we have for this??? 

VP: We have until tomorrow night. 

DS: Ali, sorry, but I’d rather burn with the people I love than spend an eternity with... Dirk. 

ER: @Ali ... how the fuck would you know this? 

@Rory you may be able to convince me the same for you. 

VP: THEN YOU CAN GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CHAT YOU IGNORANT ASS

ER: no, hes right. id rather die than survive with only HIM for company. 

ER: well, him and four others. 

VP: BOTH OF YOU JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP. 

DS: I’m forwarding the game file to my friends. 

VP: DONT YOU FUCKING DARE

DS: I won’t stand idly by while you lot think you’re more important than them. 

DS: What, am I just supposed to keep the answer to our salvation under wraps? Hidden from the world! 

VP: Yes.

DS: Do you people have any speck of humanity left in you?! 

VP: No I do not. 

DS: THIS ISN’T A FUCKING JOKE

VP: DS you you fucking ignorant ----

DS: THIS GAME IS WHAT COULD SAVE LIVES

VP: get your head out of your ass.

ER: how did all of you get your discs so fast??? my order tracker says mines still a week away. 

DS: THE ENTIRE FUCKING POPULATION SHOULD HAVE ACCESS TO THIS

ER: how fucking likely do you think it is the world is actually going to end tomorrow rory???

VP: It’s on the internet for free download. Anyone can access it at anytime. 

DS: WE LET COUNTLESS PEOPLE WITH LIVES AND ASPIRATIONS BURN BECAUSE YOU THINK THAT WE’RE SOMEHOW MORE IMPORTANT THAN THEM?!

ER: do you trust ali to predict the end of the world??? 

VP: excuse you? 

DS: If there’s even a small chance that she’s right, I want to save as many people as possible.

VP: I know for a fact that I’m right. 

ER: id agree with rory, but everything i do is motivated by spite. 

DS: Well then my point stands! 

ER: how about we cut him from the server and let him fucking die??? 

VP: That’s what I’m considering at this point. 

ER: ali, holy shit. 

DS: I’d start my own game you fucks.

VP: Go ahead. 

VP: What dirk? 

VP: Holy shit what? 

ER: you want to KILL rory??? 

VP: I don’t want him in my session with this kind of backwards ass attitude 

DS: I have the game on a flashdrive. 

DS: I can email it to all my friends. 

DS: Tell them to pass it on to anyone they know.

VP: You’ll get a fucked up session. 

DS: If they don’t believe me, at least I tried to save humanity instead of being a fucking selfish pig. 

VP: what did u just call me? 

ER: god i fucking hate all of you. 

ER: im agreeing with rory. 

VP: Well THATS A SURPRISE

ER: and if he tries to thank me for it im going to FUCKING KILL HIM. 

ER: so hed better not. 

ER: got it, asshole???

DS: Come on, do you really think, out of 7 billion people, that you deserve to live? Out of all the brilliant minds and creative people and tiny children who want to grow up to be beautiful, amazing people, do you think that you are the most important?

DS: I’m sorry but thats bullshit, Ali.

VP: I have never been more offended in my entire life. 

DS: Good. 

ER: there is NOTHING more frustrating than someone who cant see morals. 

ER: what is more important about US SIX than SEVEN BILLION OTHER PEOPLE??? 

ER: im so fucking PISSED!!

ER: surely you didnt fucking leave ali???

ER: are you THAT FUCKING DISGUSTED WITH YOURSELF that you cant fucking FACE ME???

VP: Excuse me? 

ER: answer me!!

VP: I don’t... understand the question? 

ER: why should we be responsible for SEVEN BILLION PEOPLES DEATHS???

VP: We’re not. 

VP: Everyone else is. 

DS: Passively, we are. 

ER: youre choosing inaction!!

DS: We’re not sharing the salvation. 

ER: its a CHOICE!!

DS: That makes us as bad as the apocalypse itself. 

ER: youre DECIDING to LET THEM DIE!!

VP: Do you think people would listen to us? 

ER: we should try!!

ER: they might play the game ANYWAY, they might just think its cool!!

VP: I’m fucking 14 (I think). No one would listen. 

VP: coin flip. 

ER: let it rely on fate instead of intent???

ER: ...i like it. 

VP: Neither of us is budging. 

VP: So why not? 

ER: who wants to flip???

VP: you can flip. heads we tell everyone, tails we keep to ourselves. 

ER: good. 

ER: ...its fucking TAILS. 

ER: god DAMN it.

VP: : )

ER: i dont want to fucking talk to you, you smug, detestable bitch. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline and PISSED as HELL!!!** [5:49PM]

  
  


VP: You have no right to be mad at me. 

VP: No right at all. 

DS: Sorry for being absent. 

DS: I was too busy emailing the game to everyone I know and telling them all about it. 

DS: What did I miss? 

VP: WE DID A COIN FLIP YOU IGNORANT FUCK

DS: >;o)

VP: GOD. 

VP: You’re horrible. 

DS: No, I believe you are. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Online!** [5:59PM]

  
  


EH: You were gonna have a game without me ):

VP: Who’s this asshole?

EH: I’m Rory’s friend! We met a few times I think...

DS: Everyone, meet our new player. 

EH: That file you sent was massive! My dad just bought me a new computer with a whole lot of processing power though q:

VP: Welcome!

VP: You seem pretty nice so I’ll let it slide this time. 

EH: and for the record I am /not/ an asshole

DS: Yes, the file is rather large. 

DS: Do you know if anyone else was able to download it? 

EH: So Rory, what’s this cool game about? Oh! And no... It’s too huge. My dad is an IT so he did some computer magic to help speeding along

EH: somebody is still on ten percent lol

DS: Fuck. 

VP: : )))))))))

DS: Ali why are you smiling about literal murder. 

EH: murder? 

DS: Devon, did you read the message I sent you alongside the file?

EH: I skimmed. Yadda yadda game yadda yadda group

VP: I’m not smiling about murder! What kind of person do you take me for? 

DS: You literally are smiling about murder. 

DS: @Devon: You dense motherfucker. 

EH: everyone’s computer crashed after trying to download lol

EH: my computer is superior

DS: Tell them to delete everything off their computers Devon this is URGENT. 

EH: wdym? 

DS: Just tell them to put it on a flashdrive and play it off there I don’t care this is important as fuck. 

EH: it’s just a game, nerd. 

DS: Devon, this game is the entire human race’s salvation. 

EH: Sounds like this thing has pretty awesome advertising!!!

DS: Read my fucking message. 

EH: you can’t see it but I’m sighing

EH: um...

EH: that doesn’t make sense?

EH: are we really going to die!? ;~;

VP: Sadly.

  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **private messaging darudeSandstorm [DS]!** [6:11PM]

  


EH –--> DS: what is she talking about? 

DS \---> EH: Don’t question it. 

EH –--> DS: this doesn’t make any sense. It’s just a game

DS \---> EH: ...

DS \---> EH: But what if? 

EH –--> DS: ...

  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **no longer private messaging darudeSandstorm [DS]!** [6:13PM]

  


EH: then shouldn’t we get going!?!??

VP: Not everyone has the game. 

EH: !!!

VP: On a lighter note, does anyone know how to tune a broken clarinet? 

EH: um... Ali was it? Maybe we should focus on the task at hand? 

DS: Alright, a few of my friends have fixed the crashing issue. 

DS: They’re safe. 

VP: Everyone should get their minds off the subject until everyone is ready to start. 

DS: But they think it wise not to add any more players to our group’s game anymore. 

DS: It’d be too confusing, so they’re starting their own. 

DS: I won’t be able to see them ever again, but that’s fine. They’re safe. 

EH: are they? 

EH: Justin said he’s not a nerd so he isn’t playing ):

DS: Fuck Justin. 

DS: ...damn it. 

VP: Who’s Justin? 

DS: A friend. 

VP: You don’t want to pull him in?

EH: he doesn’t want to ):

VP: Alright

DS: Oh, a friend messaged me. 

DS: Lily says that half of her friends don’t believe me but are playing anyway. Of course, they’re not spreading the game. 

DS: Ignorant fucks. 

VP: That’s a really risky move. 

DS: Shut up, Ali. 

DS: I’m the decent person here.

DS: I’ve managed to save, what, twenty lives already? 

DS: Compared to your miserable six. 

VP: Don’t tell me to shut up!

DS: I’ll tell you to shut up all I like. 

VP: No you won’t!

DS: You’re not the boss of me. 

DS: I can always go join the other game.

VP: Well, have some common sense. 

DS: There’s nothing keeping me here. 

VP: What about EH? 

DS: I can always ask him to switch as well. 

DS: It’s not like he’s connected already. 

VP: They why don’t you just go? 

DS: I should, shouldn’t I? 

DS: Thank you for the idea, dear. 

DS: It’s the only useful thing you’ve said all day. 

  
  


**darudeSandstorm [DS]** has left MEMO **RE: PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE BRIGADE** on BOARD **MY HAT**.  [6:23PM]

  
  


VP: This is too stressful for me. 

VP: Is anyone still here? Am I alone again? 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** has added **darudeSandstorm [DS]** to MEMO **RE: PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE BRIGADE** on BOARD **MY HAT**.  [6:25PM]

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Inactive!** [6:28PM]

  
  


DS: Alright, something bad has happened. 

VP: What is it? 

DS: My friends have already closed their loop. 

DS: I’m stuck with you assholes. 

VP: Could you at least be a little more polite then? 

DS: Fine, excuse me if I get a bit too worked up about your genocide complex, Ali. 

VP: Genocide?? 

EH: Sorry I had to go afk! Dad needed help with his companies tracking system

EH: Apparently it’s all bogged up!

DS: Yes, I believe that’s the term for when someone causes the mass slaughter of an entire speices. 

VP: It’s not genocide. 

VP: I’m not causing it!

EH: please don’t commit genocide ):

DS: Passively destroying it. 

DS: Passive destruction always seemed interesting to me. 

DS: But in this case I will not allow it.

VP: I sincerely believe that they can survive if they find the resources to. 

DS: You’re just selfish. 

DS: Why not supply the resources? 

VP: No one would believe us. 

DS: I’m working as a sort of Robin Hood here to save people’s lives and what are you doing? 

DS: Sitting there, believing everyone will be fine if you don’t do anything? 

EH: Well there is an important question

EH: How many people can win the game?

VP: As many people in a session. 

VP: We work together!

EH: cuz if only one session wins then I want it to be us

DS: Personally, I’d hope for my friend’s session to succeed. 

VP: We cannot save everyone.

EH: But... I mean... I want to think we’re important too!

DS: We aren’t important! 

DS: We’re not original, or unique, or special! 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online!** [6:38PM]

  
  


VP: It’s the whole mystery gang online. 

VP: Zoinks. 

EH: speak for yourself Rory

EH: i think we’re all special in our own way ):

ER: doesnt matter how important we are.

EH: I guess

ER: were not more important than 7 billion people. 

VP: If we have the right attitude we can win!

EH: true... oh and nice to meet you.

ER: oh. hi. 

DS: We’re probably going to die anyway. 

EH: so negative!!

DS: I wouldn’t be so passionate about this. 

VP: No we won’t!

EH: you need a little optimism

EH: c’mon Rory. You know I can do anything (;

VP: Who wants me to send a link of a nice song to cheer everyone up? 

EH: that sounds super!

ER:[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gqFZjfFGuM](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7gqFZjfFGuM)

VP:[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6M6samPEMpM](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6M6samPEMpM)

VP: Dirk cheer up. 

EH: the first one has a curse word. 

ER: hey ali. 

ER: FUCK YOU. 

ER: dont tell me to cheer up. 

EH: and now there are more. 

VP: I know EH

DS:[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6120QOlsfU](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6120QOlsfU)

EH: these are not good things

VP:[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6M6samPEMpM](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6M6samPEMpM)

VP: : )

EH: I've read a little

EH: we should start making the connections

DS:[https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6120QOlsfU](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6120QOlsfU)

DS: This song is important. 

EH: sure it is...

ER: you insufferable ASS. 

VP: Calm down

ER: send me the file, rory. 

EH: why is everyone a mess ):

ER:[dirk_quintana@yahoo.com](mailto:dirk_quintana@yahoo.com)

VP: My point EH. 

ER: im going to send it to my friends to play their own game. 

DS: Sent. 

EH: We should start making the connection things!

ER: this, rory, is the one time i will ever thank you for anything. 

ER:guess im not waiting on the discs anymore.

EH: wait!!! Are you the Dirk Rory talks about? 

ER: excuse me? 

VP: I don’t want to talk about this tonight.

ER: dirk quintana. 

EH: oh... It is you

ER: at your service, yes. 

EH: Rory, shouldn’t we make a different game is /he/ is in it? 

DS: It’s fine. 

ER: excuse me? 

EH: Rory said you were rude

DS: I can deal with it. 

VP: Oh no. 

VP: Oh no.

ER: you can DEAL with me???

ER: i am NOT a problem to be dealt with!!

VP: What have you done, EH? 

EH: I don’t know...

ER: perhaps, rory, ill just let them die. 

EH: am I in trouble? 

ER: my finger is hovering over the send button to forward your file. 

VP: You will be. 

EH: !!! Don’t let people die ER!!

DS: I meant I can deal with your insufferable attitude, you dick. 

ER: spite is a powerful motivator. 

EH: spite is awful! 

ER: spite and hatred, better than anything else for me so far. 

VP: What did I even do to get myself into this situation? 

EH: isn’t there a saying

EH: holding a grudge is like swallowing poison and expecting the other person to die

EH: I mean with my luck they would

EH: but whatever

ER: holding a grudge is maintaining the poison over time and making sure it doesnt fade into indifference

EH: ): sounds sad

ER: besides, i dont see any reason not to like YOU yet. 

EH: oh... Thanks? 

VP: Don’t worry. That’ll change. 

ER: youre not such an annoying bitch.

DS: Look, Dirk, we’re gonna be stuck with eachother for the rest of time. 

DS: Can’t we call a truce? 

ER: can we, rory???

EH: I’d like that

VP: Everyone would. 

ER: shut UP, ali!!

EH: can we start playing the game!??

VP: What did I do?

ER: im downloading the fucking game right now, calm down!!

EH: please try to watch your tongue ):

DS: Well, we’ve already agreed over the morals of letting people die. 

DS: And that it’s definitely a bad thing.

ER: genocide is bad, yes. 

DS: So why don’t we bond over this shared hatred for Ali’s genocidal nature? 

VP: What do you guys take me for? 

ER: just because alis a whore doesnt mean we have to be friends over it. 

EH: language!!!

VP: Why does everyone hate me all of a sudden??

EH: I don’t mind you!

ER: you should, devon.

EH: you seem sweet ^_^

ER: maybe you shouldntve tried to kill 7 BILLION PEOPLE!!

VP: ; )

EH: oh...

EH: a little less sweet

VP: I didn’t try to kill anyone!

ER: fine!! you tried to LET them die. 

EH: ? I’m lost :?

ER: not your fault if they just die on their OWN, right???

DS: Ali willed us to withhold the game from everyone.

VP: Oh my GOD!

ER: its like seeing a man get shot and then denying him a phone with which to call an ambulance!!

ER: except SEVEN BILLION TIMES WORSE!!

DS: If we had gone along with it, you would have died, Devon. 

EH: well even if we did give the game... Who said they’d play it

ER: we have to try!!

VP: Oh my god! They would’ve been fine!

EH: besides, we should be busy setting it up!

EH: we need to set up the loopy dee loop

EH: or whatever

ER: IM DOWNLOADING THE FUCKING GAME, DEVON!!

ER: SHUT UP!!

EH: LANGUAGE!!!

VP: should I just... go? 

DS: ALI, DEVON DIDN’T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE FUCKING GAME WAS

EH: no!!! Don’t leave

ER: get the fuck out of the chat, ali

EH: stop being mean to eachother

EH: or

EH: idk... I’ll probably hack you or something

ER: if youre going to CONTINUE to defend these ideals, you shouldnt even be allowed here. 

VP: fine. I hope you have a good session. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** has left MEMO **RE: PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE BRIGADE** on BOARD **MY HAT**.  [6:53PM]

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now the owner of MEMO **RE: PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE BRIGADE** on BOARD **MY HAT**.  [6:53PM]

  
  


DS: Have fun dying, sweetie. :o)

EH: Dirk

ER: see you, slut. 

EH: how far along is it? 

EH: because odds are that by the time your game is downloaded

EH: my house might get wrecked

EH: I mean, I’m not sure how the whole apocalypse thing works

EH: but if we’re playing along

DS: I’ve already installed the game. 

DS: I can save you, Devon. 

EH: but we need to wait for everyone

ER: its 6%. 

DS: Your wifi/computer is shitty. 

ER: we are going to play this game and i am going to FUCKING KILL YOU. 

DS: Go ahead. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **private messaging** **enthusiasticHeretic [EH]!** [6:55PM]

  
  


VP \---> EH: Add me back. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **no longer** **private messaging** **e** **nthusiasticHeretic [EH]!** [6:55PM]

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** has added **vividParadox [VP]** to MEMO **RE: PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE BRIGADE** on BOARD **MY HAT**.  [6:55PM]

  
  


ER: why do you INSIST on being SO INSUFFERABLE???

ER: its GOT to get tiring once in a while!!

VP: have mercy on me. I did not have any reason to act the way I did. I do not want to die.

ER: thank fucking god. 

ER: she knows her idiocy. 

DS: I’ll allow it. 

DS: It goes against my moral principles to let you die. 

VP: I am sorry.

ER: shut UP about your PRINCIPLES you PRETENTIOUS FUCK!!

ER: whats WRONG with you???

VP: please stop fighting.

ER: make him take responsibility for once!!

EH: if this keeps us I’ll have to kill one of you ):

DS: Listen. We called a truce, did we not?

ER: no, YOU called a truce. 

ER: i sat by and listened, at no point did i agree. 

EH: ),:

ER: shut up devon!!

VP: please leave each other alone. 

DS: If you can’t stop fighting with me for two seconds to let our team have some slim chance of succeeding, I think I’ll have to go against my moral principles.

EH: language!!!!

EH: in the game I’m coming after you first!!!!

ER: come after me, then.

VP: devon please don’t rile them up. 

EH: but ER is being mean to me. 

ER: i wont fucking stop you. 

EH: ):<

VP: you don’t want to go against ER

ER: for once, shes right. 

EH: I’m not scared of anything!!!

EH: except spiders

EH: and dolls

EH: and possessed children

VP: I’m begging you. drop. the. subject. 

ER: id advise you against attacking me as well. 

EH: and most R rated movies...

DS: You are all petulant children, shut the fuck up. 

EH: but I’m not scared of you ):<

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Inactive!** [7:00PM]

  
  


ER: fuck off, devon!! my problems not with you!! leave me alone in the game and ill do the same for you. 

EH: LANGUAGE!!

EH: all I ask is to watch your language

DS: Devon, fuck off. 

EH: please

EH: you too Rory ):

ER: im not leaving this time. 

EH: (:

ER: you may have misunderstood me, devon. 

ER: im not GOING TO BE the one to leave this time. 

ER: ...whatever. 

ER: at least rorys not insisting on being an ass now. 

DS: Devon, please just shut your fucking mouth about “language”. 

ER: ...thank you???

EH: but language is important!

DS: This is life or death I think I’m allowed to swear. 

DS: ~~and so can dirk~~

EH: why would you?

VP: Let’s just start the game. 

EH: yes

ER: 12%. 

EH: good

EH: leave the undisciplined brat to suffer

VP: don’t talk until its 100. 

ER: what the FUCK did you call me???

EH: anyway

VP: oh. no. 

ER: ive done nothing to you!! i said id leave you alone in the game!!

DS: Here, Dirk, let me meme on behalf of you. 

ER: whats WRONG with you???

VP: oh uh okay!

EH: I mean

EH: if you can’t watch your language

EH: you’re clearly undisciplined

EH: and you are whiney

EH: therefore you are an undisciplined brat

ER: you threatened to assault me!!

VP: have any of you read the walkthrough? 

EH: anyway

EH: not really

EH: not in detail

EH: but I can figure it out

VP: this isn’t a game of monopoly we’re dealing with. 

EH: I’m great at monopoly!

ER: just leave me alone, devon!! okay??? if you dont bother me once were playing, i wont bother you. 

VP: This is truly life or death and petty arguments have no place!

EH: sounds like a deal

DS: What the fuck did you just fucking say about Dirk, you little bitch? I’ll have you know they’ve graduated top of their class in the Navy Seals, and they’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and they have over 300 confirmed kills. They are trained in gorilla warfare and They’re the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to them but just another target. They will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to them over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak They are contacting their secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. They can be anywhere, anytime, and They can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with their bare hands. Not only are they extensively trained in unarmed combat, but they have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and they will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. They will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo.

VP: Rory. 

DS: I just really wanted to meme, excuse me for that

EH: why Rory... 

EH: this was... A mess

ER: that is so unbelievably inappropriate to this situation. 

VP: can we all just agree to not fight from this point on? 

EH: I can most certainly try!

EH: (:

ER: theres no fucking way im agreeing to that. 

ER: but ill not argue if i have no reason. 

EH: please don’t use “fucking”

EH: it lacks class ):

VP: devon don’t try. 

ER: class???

DS: Devon, stop. 

ER: youre worried about class???

EH: um... 

EH: yes?

ER: why are you so terrible???

ER: i cant... 

EH: why are you so sharp tongued

ER: i

ER: because everyone else is a fucking idiot, obviously.

EH: ~~your tongue would be better if it was removed from your body~~

DS: Fuck shit ass motherfucker fucking shit jesus christ bastard dick cocksucking cunt

EH: RORY!!!

ER: are you trying to curry favor with me, rory???

EH: are you doing this to impress your mean friends? 

EH: sigh

ER: because its not helping you. 

DS: No, I just can’t stand Devon’s “purer than thou” attitude. 

ER: oh, because its SO different from yours. 

ER: mister “not to be crass but what the fuck”. 

VP: what did I walk into

ER: shut up ali, im not even mad. 

ER: i just

ER: ugh

ER: im fucking tired. 

DS: Normally I don’t swear, this is an exception because because I’m fucking panicking right now. 

VP: go sleep, honey. 

DS: I need to sit down. 

ER: @Rory defending me from your... friends... wont help you pacify me. 

@Ali I wouldnt just to spite you, but im exhausted. 

ER: im going to bed. 

VP: goodnight!

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** has changed their chumhandle to **godifuckinghateAllofyou [GA]!** [7:06PM]

  
  


**godifuckinghateAllofyou [GA]** is now **Offline!** [7:07PM]

  
  


VP: GA don’t be like that

VP: Do you still hate me, rory? 

DS: I don’t hate any of you. 

DS: I don’t have any emotions pertaining to you besides occasional anger and resignation. 

VP: that’s a relief. 

DS: Typically, I don’t have any emotions pertaining to anyone besides anger and resignation so don’t think you’re special. 

VP: this is so reassuring

DS: So, my game is ready. 

VP: mine has been ready

DS: I suppose Dirk’s going to miss out on playing and get crushed by a meteor. 

DS: What a shame. 

VP: give it a rest

EH: I’ll brb! Magic is happening

VP: Oh my. 

DS: What’s our server/client chain anyway?

VP: how many of us are there? 

DS: Well, there’s me, you, Dirk, Navo, my brother and Devon. Oh, and Tommaso. 

VP: dev-me-tom-brother-navo-you-dirk-dev

EH: no!!!

VP: ?

EH: I don’t want him to be my host play!!!

VP: it goes server-client

EH: he’s gonna be crass and rude!

DS: Why am I connected to Dirk????

VP: I’ll edit it gosh!

VP: rory-dirk-me-dev-navo-bro-tom-rory

EH: that’s a bit better

DS: I’m still connected to Dirk. 

EH: wait

EH: Rory has a brother!?

DS: Yes, Blitz. I don’t talk about him that much. 

EH: clearly

EH: are they... 

EH: appealing to the eye? 

VP: why is that relevant? 

EH: because

EH: I’m single and if I’m stuck with somebody

EH: they should be attractive

VP: Devon save it for the game

EH: ok (:

DS: I’d prefer it if none of you thought about fucking my brother. 

EH: sex??? Not before marriage!

EH: I’m not a harlot

DS: If this truly is the end of the world humanity doesn’t have a hope because I’m pretty sure 99% of us are gay as fuck. 

VP: I’m not gay!

DS: Ali is an outlier adn should not be counted. 

EH: ):

VP: aw. 

EH: anyway...

VP: So everyone here is gay except for myself? 

DS: I’m pretty sure, yes.

VP: would ER wake up to tell me what their percent is at? 

VP: I’ll take that as a no... 

EH: where did everyone go... Don’t we have a universe to save or something? 

VP: I’m here!

DS: I’m also here.

EH: well... Shall we get started? Do we need everyone? 

DS: Yes, I think we do.

EH: gosh darn! Then we need to wait for Dirk and company. 

VP: We need absolutely everyone.

  
  



	4. Bubblegum Bitch

Friday, November 6, 2015

**vividParadox [VP]** is now **No longer idle!** [7:31AM]

  
  


VP: Anyone here to discuss plans?

**darudeSandstorm [DS]** is now **Online!** [7:31AM]

  
  


VP: oh. yay?

DS: I really need to change my chumhandle.

VP: It’s getting very old. 

DS: What to change it to...

VP: How about “dilutedSanity”? Sounds cool!

DS: Hmmm.

DS: Perhaps distantSaviour because I seem to be the only one who gives a shit about saving the entire fucking world from death. 

VP: Uh, sure!

  
  


**darudeSandstorm [DS]** has changed their chumhandle to **distantSaviour [DS]**!  [7:32AM]

  
  


VP: Nice!

VP: should I change mine? 

DS: If you want. 

  
  


Three hours ago (around 4:30AM), Tommaso Mambelli’s body is awake. (With a mug of coffee, his body is, too.) He checks the mailbox again. _God damn, I’m sore…_ Although, to be fair, that _is_ what happens when you let the neighbors catch you in their backyard hammock. Honestly, it’s been _two days_ , you’d think they’d be over it by now… 

  
  


VP: I still like it though. 

  
  


The twinkling starlight and fresh air makes him feel curiously guilty, and Tommaso has never been one to look deep into his own soul and divine the sources of his mysterious emotions, so, instead, still without a game disc or two, he goes back to his dark, dank room. Initially, he falls asleep. Eventually – 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [7:33AM]

  


SS: ugh wut happened

VP: there was a big fight and now everyone thinks I wanted genocide. 

VP: I did not!

SS: can you explain this

SS: im not high right now so I can prob process it and judge for myself

VP: I just believed everyone would be okay if we didn’t drag them into our game and now everyone’s telling me that i want genocide all because I just had faith in other people!

SS: slow down wtf how does not playing a game relate to death in any way

VP: this game apparently causes meteors to plunge into earth destroying all who don’t play the game

DS: Ali, you specifically requested that we shouldn’t provide the game to other people. 

VP: Stay out of this Rory. 

SS: how do you know

VP: an online walk through

SS: link

VP: I’m too lazy. Just trust me it’s really long and you wouldn’t read it anyway

SS: I would though

SS: if my life’s on the line...

VP: [http://](http://mspaintadventures.wikia.com/wiki/Rose%E2%80%99s_walkthrough)[walkthroughs.com](http://mspaintadventures.wikia.com/wiki/Rose%E2%80%99s_walkthrough)[/](http://mspaintadventures.wikia.com/wiki/Rose%E2%80%99s_walkthrough)01123583145943707741561785381909987

SS: brb reading

DS: Ali, you have to admit that asking us to keep the game a secret was a dick move. 

VP: You have me all wrong!

DS: Really. 

VP: Yes really!

SS: ok so we work together in what im calling the “gamespace” for now to survive the apocolypse

SS: therefor if we give this game to everyone out instance would be very large and it would be difficult to keep everyone alive

SS: so we shoud give it to as many ppl as possible and have them do diff instances

DS: Yes. 

VP: Why did you think I was against this? 

VP: This was my plan!

SS: glad we took care of that

DS: Because when I mentioned I had sent a copy of the game to my friends, you replied with “DON’T!!!!”

VP: I thought you wanted them in our session. 

VP: Too many people is chaos. 

SS: i agry

SS: agree*?

DS: You could have made your intentions a little clearer and actually explained that, Ali

VP: Everyone was spamming at once!

VP: Now do you believe that I’m not genocidal? 

SS: ye i was looking and i can def c that

VP: Genocide is a harsh term. Thank you Tom. 

VP: Someone is finally on my side. 

SS: its still a good idea to play anyway to save ourselves

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!** [8:11AM]

  
  


VP: Devon please have my back too.

EH: I had nothing against you!!!

SS: wtf is eh

EH: why are you so rude? You people are all so crass

EH: My name is Devon. I’m Rory’s friend

VP: Are you calling me rude? 

EH: no, you are the exception

VP: : D

EH: everyone here has such a sharp tongue ):

DS: Get over yourself, Devon. 

SS: fuk u im going to get hugh

SS: brb

EH: please don’t tell me this one is in our session too

VP: He’s actually one of the nicer ones, Dev. 

DS: Everyone fucking swears. 

EH: excuse me? 

EH: oh goodness

DS: You’re a child.

VP: I personally try not to. 

EH: I’m not a child. I’m just refined!

DS: Bullshit. 

  
  


This chat just radiates hostility, and Tommaso has nowhere to be (well, except school, he guesses), so it’s not hard to give in to the temptation and numb his senses again. Soon, he is immersed in smoke. 

  
  


EH: you’re bull poop! Shall we play a game of chance to determine our rules of cussing? 

SS: bak and just how old R u? ; )

EH: old enough to know you are a creep

EH: and also smart enough to know I’m out of your league

SS: wow and u cal ME rood

EH: I didn’t say rude. You just curse... Which is revolting honestly

SS: all dis shade throne # me

SS: ur luky i like shade

EH: oh... Well... Ok then

VP: so, EH, do you actually have any skills that could benefit us? Or are you just going to be in the leech club with myself? 

EH: Well my father has taught me some hacking things

EH: and I was trained in fencing for a year

SS: nice

EH: and I’m really good at poker!

VP: Hacking is good! So is fencing! Poker maybe.

EH: most card games actually

SS: gud shit gud shit

DS: He’s also an insufferable prick when he wants to be.

EH: watch your language SS

SS: fredum of speach

DS: One more fucking thing about language and I’ll kill you. 

SS: ya ho

VP: Play any instruments? 

EH: I play piano and drums... The former much better than the latter

VP: Cool! I play clarinet and violin! Clarinet better than violin. 

EH: freedom of speech does not protect rude language attacking another person without good reason!

SS: eh shhhhhh

DS: ...

EH: plus language is a skill everyone should master

DS: Devon, wait a second. 

EH: no need to use garbage words

SS: wud u call them doo-doo words

DS: I just realized I never sent you the server copy of SBURB. 

SS: u giant poopy hed

VP: SS please

EH: oh yeah. I do need that Rory

SS: lol sry

DS: I’m sending it to you rn. 

EH: I suppose poopy is better than those /other/ words

VP: SS hmu on some of that stuff I could use some relaxation

SS: lol

VP: Completely serious right now SS

EH: alright.... This one might take longer to load

DS: Once it’s loaded, run it. You can connect to me. 

EH: phrasing, dear Rory

DS: How much is downloaded? 

EH: I just got it Rory! Patience

SS: o spekin of that, i still don’t have the male

SS: mail*

SS: i do have the male, it is me

EH: I’m only at twenty percent

DS: This one should be faster. 

EH: What mail? 

VP: This chat is a mad house. 

SS: my copys of the game

EH: copies*

VP: EH don’t try

DS: You got it? 

EH: Almost

EH: 85%

SS: coping* with the void i has insyd

SS: : P

EH: I have* inside

VP: EH don’t try

EH: alright. Fully loaded and ready to go Rory

DS: Run it. 

EH: what am I doing? Running which one? Server? 

DS: just click on the file

EH: alright!

EH: it’s loading

DS: Ok. Have fun with that virus, Devon. 

SS: rry u wut

EH: WHAT!? You ignorant buffoon!

EH: this was a brand new laptop too! I suppose it won’t be long before it will get fixed though

EH: I am the second best with computers in my house

SS: ROYR THIS ISN COLE GIF EH THE GAME

DS: Got to go, sweeties.

SS: RORY WTF CUM DA FUK BAK HERE

EH: yoU are al id10ts! RORY THE VVIIIIIIIIRUS IS AFFEXTING MY TYPING!!!!

  
  


**distantSaviour [DS]** is now **Offline!** [8:22AM]

  
  


SS: eh dont wory do u haf a 2nd comp? 

EH: I do but the files for sburb are on this one! I seem to have been able to fix the typing related issues but... Drat! I need to go offline to fix this!

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Offline!** [8:23AM]

  
  


SS: eh just take the fyles and put them on fishdrife!

  
  


Your message was not sent!

  
  


SS: wtf nonono

  
  


Your message was not sent!

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Disconnected!** [8:23AM]

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [12:11PM]

  
  


The wifi router will have to reboot, but Tommaso doubts it’ll take long. He could use this time to take a nap, but other than that, Tommaso doesn’t have much to do... Well, except school. He could, theoretically, still catch the bus. And go to school stoned. 

Tom takes a nap. 

  
  


VP: anyone online? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

At Oak Valley High School, advisory period going strong in all its full-fledged weirdness, Ali spins away from her desk, wheeled chair squeakily complaining at the movement, to pick up her violin. _I haven’t played in a_ while… _I really should be practicing_. 

It becomes clear just how long it’s been since she last played when the first note (and the second, and the third) are horribly out of tune (“ _Why?_ ” sobs one student in return which, if we’re being frank, is just rude. Honestly, do your graphing and fuck off). _Oh, right._

_I’ll_ _fix that_ _later_.

Which, naturally, is exactly what happened last time. 

  
  


**godifuckinghateAllofyou [GA]** has changed their chumhandle to **entropicRelativity [ER]!** [12:11PM]

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online!** [12:11PM]

  
  


VP: Hi, Dirk!

ER: hey, ali. 

ER: i left the game downloading while i slept, its ready to go now.

VP: Shouldn’t you be in school right now? 

ER: meh.

VP: Great! We should wait for the others.

ER: didnt you say the world was going to end TONIGHT??? not that i have any idea how you would know that. 

VP: Maybe we should just enter the gamespace without them? 

  
  


The kid’s computer at the desk beside Ali blares (hurriedly muted) as headlines roll across the screen, ominous, obscured, and hardly promising. Apparently there are people recommending evacuations – Mrs. Bradford is terribly afraid of natural disasters and would have her out in a matter of minutes if she knew. 

They need to move. 

  
  


VP: We have to start soon. 

  
  


**distantSaviour [DS]** is now **Online and apologetic!** [1:09PM]

  
  


VP: Welcome back! 

ER: the walkthrough said we need some kind of chain??? 

DS: I realized my earlier actions were what you may call... a dick move. 

VP: Some scientist dudes want evacuations in my town. 

ER: whoa, what the fuck???

ER: where do you live???

VP: Sacramento? 

DS: Wait, evacuation? 

VP: Meteors. 

DS: Shit. 

ER: holy shit, its true. 

VP: It’s how the game works. 

DS: SHIT. 

VP: Meteors will hit. 

ER:[http://www.foxnews.com/holy-fuck-meteors](http://www.foxnews.com/holy-fuck-meteors)

ER: this game really is going to kill ys. 

ER: holy fuck, holy fuck, holy FUCK. 

DS: Alright, I’ve uploaded the game copies to my blog in order to reach more people. 

DS: Hopefully I can save more. 

ER: how do we start???

DS: I’ve downloaded my copies on my brother’s computer as well. He’s taking a nap. 

VP: Why do none of you go to school?????

DS: We are at school.

VP: oh

DS: We can still complete the chain if I stand in for him. 

ER: how does this chain even work???

VP: server client chain

DS: I believe the client enters by running the client file. 

DS: Their server runs the server file and connects to them. 

DS: Then someone acts as that players server, etc etc until you have a loop. 

ER: yes, great, thanks for explaining that, rory, i know what all of those terms mean and this has been incredibly helpful. 

VP: Roll with it we can explain later

DS: Who the fuck is entering first. I presume Ali, as the meteors have hit her now. 

VP: Great. That means I’m the guinea pig, then? 

ER: you were the one willing to just let everyone else fend for themselves. im thinking this is perfectly fair.

VP: Great. Why won’t anyone just believe in others’ abilities? 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!** [1:13PM]

  
  


EH: I have fixed my computer and all is somewhat well

VP: Great!

EH: what have I missed?   
ER: alis going to play first.

VP: My mom picked me up from school

VP: I’m the guinea pig. 

EH: yay ^_^

ER: how this game will save us from fucking meteors i have no idea, id like to see soon.

DS: Ali, I’m going to use my brothers server to connect to your client. 

DS: Because I seem to be the only one to understand and I can’t waste any time by going to my room. 

VP: Alright let me run it. 

VP: It’s up

DS: I’m connected. 

VP: What’s on your screen anyway?

ER: rory how do you even KNOW anything about this??? 

ER: alis the one who found the game. 

DS: I read the fucking walk through.

EH: language

EH: anyway, to avoid conflict, yes you did so you know the basics

ER: do you WANT to call our truce into question, devon? 

EH: of course not!

DS: There’s a bunch of weird spirograms and - 

DS: so that’s what you look like. 

EH: :?

ER: also, i still want to know how a VIDEO GAME is going to keep us from being BLOWN THE FUCK UP. 

VP: You can see me? 

EH: what? 

DS: Yep.

VP: How many finger am I holding up? 

EH: it probably accessed Ali’s computer cam? 

ER: im covering my webcam. 

EH: what are you doing behind the web cam Dirk!?

ER: a striptease. 

ER: purely because i know you cant see it. 

EH: STRIP TEASE? 

EH: how inappropriate!!

DS: Devon you’re a prude. 

VP: I don’t have a web cam. 

DS: And @Ali Three. 

VP: Lucky guess. 

EH: curious... No cam... Perhaps it’s satellites? 

VP: What color is my wallpaper? 

DS: Soft blue. 

VP: What’s my moms hair color?

DS: I don’t know. She’s not home.

VP: Okay. How? 

DS: It’s definitely not a webcam, I can see stuff from above. 

EH: interesting... I should look into its coding!

VP: Aside from that, let’s get started. What does the walk through say to do first? 

DS: There’s a little drop down menu and a cursor. 

DS: I believe it told me to "deploy" these items in the menu. 

ER: hurry up, i want in. 

EH: As do I!

DS: Great, the ones I’m meant to deploy are all free. 

VP: Will there be enough room? 

ER: im googling quick, the meteor reports are coming in in higher numbers. 

DS: I’m not sure. Let me make space. 

VP: BE CAREFUL! THE GROUND JUST SHOOK!!!

VP: Where’s my bed? It had my violin on it!

DS: Too bad. 

EH: what’s going on? Is Ali going through her tasks? 

VP: What are these things?

EH: are you actually able to move her furniture? 

EH: WHAT KIND OF GAME IS THIS????????

VP: It reminds me of Sims!

DS: Ali, did you only read enough of the walk through to know we were going to die and literally not go over the mechanics at all? 

EH: it is like sims except we die

ER: i guess its not a big leap from being able to end the world.

ER: you have to accept that it IS able to end the world, though. 

VP: What do I do first? 

EH: let’s focus a bit

EH: ~~if I can move stuff can I fix my client players house and clean it?~~

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [1:19PM]

  
  


DS: Look, you see that thing where your bed used to be? Hit it really hard. That’ll deploy your kernelsprite. 

EH: SS, Ali has started the game. 

  
  


Ali taps the machine lightly. 

  
  


VP: Didn’t work. 

SS: i haf a splitin mygrane

SS: but k

EH: *splitting *migraine

DS: Harder. Like so. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory picks up his dresser, head spinning with the metaphysical machinations that this game implies, and drops it on the machine. 

  
  


SS: eh stfu im not in the mood

VP: BE CAREFUL!

VP: What do I put in the guide?

DS: It will fashion as your friendly guide. I’d recommend something humanoid - you don’t want a napkin guide, for example. 

SS: o wate, teh game works? 

DS: Yes. 

EH: your spelling is infuriating but yes, the game operates just fine

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali tosses a dog plush into the Kernelsprite. 

  
  


VP: I made it cute!

SS: cool

DS: Good. 

SS: if it didnt case the aplocips

SS: das bad

EH: you made the Guide... cute? 

VP: I added my plushie!

SS: dawwww

EH: oh! How adorable

EH: a little stuff toy friend

DS: Alright, don’t worry about that anymore

ER: ...i gotta go

SS: i kinda rember somthin bout a countdown

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Inactive!** [1:21PM]

  
  


SS: bye dirk

EH: a what

EH: count done? 

SS: ali do u c a coutdown

SS: countdown*

EH: oh! A countdown!

DS: Oh yes. Ali, you’ll now notice a timer. That’s how long you have before the meteors crush you. 

VP: Yes

EH: better pick up the pace VP

EH: ): I want to start soon. It sounds fun ):

DS: Alright, Ali, pick up the card next to the machine. 

DS: Turn the wheel on the machine to receive a cruxite dowel. 

DS: Take those two over to the totem lathe, and then carve the dowel by inserting the card into the slot. 

EH: this game sounds complicated

SS: omg ikr

VP: Okay I got a weird totem

DS: Then take the totem to the Alchemiter. 

DS: You can enter the game once you’ve carved it. 

VP: Really? 

DS: However. 

DS: I would advise you get any personal stuff out of the way first. 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **private messaging** **enthusiasticHeritic [EH]**!  [1:22PM]

  
  


SS \---> EH: hey wut hapened to dat virus?

  
  


DS: This is the point of no return. 

VP: Out of the way of what? 

ER: isnt she already playing the game? 

  
  


SS \---> EH: did u fix it

  
  


DS: Like, tell your friends you love them? Say goodbye to your parents? You have until the timer runs out. 

  
  


EH \---> SS: it caused my computer to crash! Luckily I managed to get all my important files to a flash drive and put it in to an older computer. It’ll operate just fine... Though my other laptop did kind of... Well let’s just say it’s rather unusable

  
  


VP: ...get on with it.

DS: Alright. 

DS: I just don’t want to rush you. 

ER: HELLO??? what do you mean enter the game??? isnt she already playing???

  
  


SS \---> EH: good, i didnt want to witnis some1 get doomd rite infront of me

  
  


DS: Enter the REAL game.

ER: what, rory, is she playing the FAKE game right now?? 

  
  


EH \---> SS: that would have been a travesty... Espeically for me :p

  
  


ER: quit your secretive subtle bullshit. 

ER: we dont have time for that. 

SS: ye sry rory but u need to be less cripic

DS: If you bothered to read the walkthrough you’d know. 

ER: ugh. fine. 

EH: perhaps she gets enemies after she creates the totem or whatever!

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Inactive, again.!** [1:24PM]

  
  


DS: Ali, are you ready to create your item? 

VP: Item? 

DS: Yes. Stick the totem in the Alchemiter. 

VP: Done. What’s the item supposed to be? 

DS: The walk through says it varies. But it’s your entry ticket to the gamespace. 

DS: What does yours look like?

VP: It’s a soda can??

DS: Drink it, I suppose. 

VP: It could be poisoned!

EH: recycle it.

EH: other reviews are saying they pick things up and it goes into their... Sylladex I believe? 

DS: Devon have you never heard of a fucking Sylladex. 

EH: of course not. 

SS: that’s a wird consern

VP: I’ll just...

SS: y wud it be posined its a video game

DS: Have you been living under a rock??

DS: How do you not know what a Sylladex is????

EH: I’m not a gamer nerd I suppose

DS: Do you even have a Strife Specibus allocated????

EH: A what?

SS: noooooooob

DS: Devon, this is real life shit. 

DS: Oh my god. 

EH: well instead of cursing maybe you could enlighten me

VP: Mine is arrowkind. 

VP: Rory I stepped on the can what do I do now? 

SS: r u in game

DS: I think you’ll enter the gamespace. 

DS: If you haven’t already. 

VP: I can’t tell

SS: if not u fuked up

VP: What’s the gamespace supposed to look like? 

SS: idfk

SS: gamey

DS: It varies. 

DS: Look outside. 

SS: dus it look like ur still on erth? 

  
  


Alexis Bradford looks out the window, and a landscape of gleaming glass shines back at her. 

  
  


VP: What the fuck

DS: I’ll take that as a yes to you being in the gamespace

EH: wait... Is it this thing? Oh nvm. Sylladex... Mine says luck be a lady!!! Cool... But I’m kind of a man ):

DS: By the way, your kernelsprite is hatched. 

VP: What? 

VP: IT’S A PUPPY!!

EH: kernelsprite? 

DS: DONT DOUCH IT

VP: WHY NOT

DS: Do you WANT to get programmed????

VP: Programmed?

DS: You’ll become the other half of the sprite. 

DS: Program the sprite with something else and you can touch it. 

SS: idk abot u but dat sounds dank af

EH: ^

DS: You won’t be able to play the game.

SS: o that wud be bad wont it

EH: yes... Very bad

DS: I have to set up my client now, Ali. You’re on your own. 

VP: On my own??

  
  


**distantSaviour [DS]** is now **Idle!** [1:32PM]

  
  


ER: is it my turn yet???

EH: I could help you get that set up so long as you are fully clothed

VP: Who’s my client? 

EH: I could! I want to get this show on the road

VP: Okay! I’ll run the server and you run the client. 

SS: my copys still didnt cum yet

EH: *come

EH: alrighty. if you can see in my house please don’t look in my closet! It’s rather messy

VP: Okay

EH: alright VP, waiting for my server player

VP: I gotcha. 

VP: Aw! You’re adorable!

EH: yay (: and thanks. I’ve made room in the living room for some of the objects

EH: I tried to keep it tidy so please don’t ruin it ):

  
  


Ali throws all of his possessions out of his living room window. 

  
  


EH: ALI!

VP: I’m making room.

EH: my piano!! My bed!!! My drum set!!!

SS: lol

VP: Follow what DS said earlier

EH: alright... I have to hit one of these right?

VP: Yes this one

  
  


Devon’s Cruxtruder groans as a vase smashes against its side, designating it as ‘machine to be attacked from above with heavy objects’. Getting the message, he smashes a rice cooker on its top. 

  
  


EH: an orange thing is running around my house... How do I stop it? 

VP: don’t touch it

VP: It might be the kernelsprite

EH: ok... I’ll handle it. 

  
  


“Doyle!” Devon calls, and a snow-white bunny hops into the room. He smiles down at its adorable body and proceeds to twist its neck to breaking, tossing it into his kernelsprite. 

  
  


EH: ok. Now what do I do? 

VP: ...ohmygod...

SS: wut did u thro in

EH: my bunny

SS: d’awww

EH: ok, what’s after that? 

VP: You gotta make a totem thing right? read DS’s other instructions

EH: oh right! Give me a second... And since you made the mess outside the least you could do is put them back... Or throw them away!

  
  


**distantSaviour [DS]** is now **No longer idle!** [1:56)

  
  


DS: Oh my god you went and did things without me. 

DS: You’ve probably fucked it all up. 

EH: ok I have my totem

VP: DS help them

EH: now I have to make an item with it? 

SS: i think its goin gud so far

DS: Ugh I can’t believe you’d let Devon in as your client! you’re supposed to be the LAST person to get a client! N ow the chain’s fucked up!

EH: oh well. Can’t fix it now :/

DS: Okay, okay. I can work with this. 

EH: alright... I have a mirror now... Well it looks like a mirror but it isn’t very reflective :/

EH: what do I do with it

SS: use it

EH: I’m gonna hang it up in the bathroom. It’ll look nice there (:

DS: Smash it. 

  
  


“What a _cretin_ ,” Devon sniffs, a thin wire wrapped haphazardly around the frame barely supporting its new post in his bathroom. “Honestly. _Break_ my - ” With slow-motion technology and the distinct scent of irony, the wire slips and the mirror falls to a tiled doom. 

  
  


EH: not to alarm anybody but I did not used to live in the middle of the Amazon rainforest

EH: and yet here I am

SS: welcom 2 the gamspace

DS: Devon. I’m at my computer now and not my brothers. I’m running my client. Connect to me. 

EH: right now? But I want to explore my new place ):

DS: YES RIGHT NOW DO YOU WANT ME TO DIE????

EH: of course not, alas there is a problem. You broke my computer instead of sending me the server file

SS: so it’s blitz>ali>devon>rory so far? 

SS: lol here coms krama

DS: I already sent you the server. You just didn’t check if I did. 

EH: probably because i was too busy trying to fix my computer ): <

DS: Look, I’m sorry. 

DS: You can check my chat mood. I set it to Apologetic. 

EH: your apology is accepted. I’m running the server player now... Your house is a mess

DS: Yes. 

EH: how do you live like this? 

DS: I see what you’re doing. Please do not touch the wooden box on my bed. 

SS: eh r u fukin clening his room

EH: I am

SS: rnt dere mor imprant thing 2 do? 

SS: like savin his lief

EH: you have trash everywhere!

DS: Don’t tip that box EH. 

EH: AND YOU HAVE BONES!

DS: Oh my fucking god. 

SS: ???

EH: Rory has bones in his house!! So unsanitary

DS: That’s what I’m putting into my kernelsprite. 

DS: Don’t touch them. 

EH: alright... I’m deploying items but I’m making space first

EH: done

DS: Good. 

EH: my Guide is being annoying

EH: it’s almost as bouncy as the bunny I put in! Sigh

DS: Oh, my sprite is so cute!!!!

EH: I gave it a pack of cards to play with and now it’s a bunny with the suits on it

DS: Who’s a good puppy? You are!!!!

EH: omg rory

DS: I mean.

EH: that’s interesting...

DS: Ahem. 

DS: My sprite is rather aesthetically pleasing. 

DS: In an infantile way. 

VP: You’re a skrub

SS: u guys haf such cute guids

EH: um...

EH: is it weird that there are small people threatening to attack me? 

SS: ofc it is

EH: what do I do? 

DS: Oh, those are just imps. 

DS: Fight them. 

EH: um... Ok

EH: what’s this blue stuff I get from them... Also there is psychedelic stuff mixed in

EH: should I be concerned

DS: No. 

DS: If anyone would like a reference for my sprite, it looks like a sprite version of this: 

DS: [https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B0Z4YMWADhg/T7pvhYiLwyI/AAAAAAAADy0/PivFxjw1TpU/17FF7D00-950B-4B17-9A07-C5F649563B14.jpg](https://lh3.googleusercontent.com/-B0Z4YMWADhg/T7pvhYiLwyI/AAAAAAAADy0/PivFxjw1TpU/17FF7D00-950B-4B17-9A07-C5F649563B14.jpg)

VP: Aww

SS: cute in a spoopy way

DS: I had to dig up my late dog who’s been deceased for 3 years. 

DS: But it was worth it. 

VP: Oh my. 

DS: What? You told me in PMs that Devon brutally snapped his bunny’s neck. 

SS: he wut m8

EH: well... Yes but it was to bring him in the game. Simple as that. 

VP: Why is everyone so brutal!

EH: it’s not like I have a bone monster but whatever floats your boat

DS: Brutality is not my crime. I am a gravedigger, not a murderer. 

EH: there are a lot of thse annoying things!!! Sigh

SS: spekin of graves i shud chek for the game b4 i need one

SS: ttyl

VP: Is it bad I’m hiding in my room? 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Inactive!** [2:15PM]

  
  


EH: yeah... I have to go to. Lots of imps and a card bunny I need to handle

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Inactive!** [2:21PM]

  
  


DS: Sigh. I guess I’ll just have to enter the gamespace on my own then. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In the Mambelli household, an internal war rages. 

_But it’s so bright…_

_Do you want to die?_

_Surely we can figure out some other way._

_This is pathetic._

Tom sighs. No, he doesn’t _want_ the light of outside penetrating his poor ocular organs, but what choice does he have? He wants to not-die more than he wants to not-be-blinded. He has a need to survive the apocalypse.

Tom goes outside. 

(He doesn’t notice when his power goes out.) 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Disconnected!** [2:22PM]

  
  


And his discs _still_ aren’t there.

  
  


VP: I don’t want to leave my room.

DS: Ali, fight the imps. It’s the only way to get grist. That, or double program your guide and they can help you fight. 

VP: I can’t find my bow. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Offline!** [2:27PM]

  
  


**distantSaviour [DS]** is now **Idle!** [2:34PM]

  
  


ER: so is it my turn yet or what???

ER: listen dude this meteor shit is getting big, i went to get a jug of coffee and its on ALL the tvs, theyre making special announcements about it. 

ER: im getting WORRIED. 

  
  


**distantSaviour [DS]** is now **No longer idle!** [3:59PM]

  
  


DS: I seem to be the only one online. 

DS: I’ve entered the gamespace. 

DS: I think. 

DS: I think I fucked up. 

ER: i can put up with being your client player if it means i dont get KILLED. 

DS: Ok. 

ER: no meteors headed for chicago yet, thank god. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [4:02PM]

  
  


VP: Sorry I’m back. 

DS: I could have saved

DS: No matter. I’m connecting to you now, Dirk.

ER: so how do i enter??? i installed the file you sent to me. 

DS: Are you running the client? 

EH: how did you mess up Rory?? 

DS: Just something to do with my entrance item. 

ER: i installed whichever one you sent to me. if its the wrong one, thats your fault. 

DS: Okay, I’m connected to you. 

EH: what do you mean???

DS: I don’t want to talk about it. 

ER: wait, does that mean you can see me???

  
  


**distantSaviour [DS]** has changed their chumhandle to **distantSlaughterer [DS]**!  [4:05PM]

  
  


DS: Yes. 

DS: You look like a nerd. 

EH: did you kill your totem???

DS: ...

DS: I dont want to talk about it. 

ER: thanks, fuck. 

ER: like youre any better. 

DS: Oh please you don’t even know what I look like. 

EH: Rory looks like a little bottle of adorable :3

ER: please. there is LITERALLY no one better looking than me. 

EH: excuse me. I am the most visually appealing

ER: oh, PLEASE. me and navo are the ONLY hot ones here and you all know it. 

VP: Thanks. 

ER: just put down the fucking cruxite cutter or whatever it is. 

EH: you shouldn’t until he admits we look better hehe

ER: shut UP, devon!!

EH: wouldn’t that be the best idea Rory? Hehe

VP: Rory am I pretty

DS: I’ve deployed your items. 

EH: oh you bore

ER: now what???

DS: You’re all incredibly ugly and I hate all of you/ 

ER: trust me, im more adept at that than you are, rory. 

EH: guys I did a thing!!!

ER: GREAT!!

DS: Oh god. 

ER: now how do i play this stupid fucking game???

DS: This can only end badly. 

EH: I combined a die with my sword in the alchemiter thing

ER: what the fuck is an alchemiter???

DS: The machine where your bed used to be. 

ER: where the FUCK is my BED???

EH: and now I have dice with little swords on them

DS: The cruxtruder is the one i have just hit with the said bed. 

DS: And the totem lathe is the other one. 

DS: There’s little labels on the interface.

EH: and now when I throw the dice they do cool things!!!

ER: shut up devon. 

ER: im trying to figure out whats going on.

EH: language

ER: I DIDNT EVEN FUCKING SWEAR IN THAT ONE!!

ER: WHAT THE FUCK???

DS: I’m pretty sure no words in that were swear words. 

EH: but shut up is rude ):

ER: i hate you i hate you i hate you i hate ALL of you. 

ER: get me into the game so you can leave me alone. 

DS: For once I share Dirk’s sympathies. 

ER: asshole.

DS: The card is at your feet. Create a dowel. Use the card and the dowel on the lathe. Put the lathe in the Alchemiter. 

DS: Perform whatever task you need to do on your item. 

ER: can you at least EXPLAIN how to do these things???

EH: Rory you aren’t very clear ):

ER: lets start slow, since you dont seem to understand what im requesting

ER: what do i do with the FUCKING CARD???

EH: language

ER: IM GOING TO FUCKING MURDER YOU. 

VP: language

EH: thanks Ali ^_^

ER: I AM GOING TO SLIT YOUR THROAT AND FUCK IT VICIOUSLY UNTIL MY CUM IS MIXED INEXTRACTABLY WITH YOUR BLOOD. 

DS: You want me to spell it out to you like an infant? Fine. 

ER: yes, rory, i do. 

VP: phrasing

EH: language

DS: Step one: Turn the lever on the Cruxtruder. 

DS: Captchalogue the dowel that comes from it. 

DS: You should probably program your kernelsprite now. 

ER: and what is program, rory???

DS: Throw an item in your kernelsprite. 

EH: you put a thing in the floaty thing that should be flying around

DS: Any item, preferably humanoid or animalistic. 

ER: see, if you had mentioned that EARLIER i wouldnt have thrown in my diviners book. 

ER: um, it has a goat head. 

ER: and horns. 

ER: i think i just programmed the fallen one. 

VP: Oh no. 

EH: you wasted literature!!!

ER: shut UP you pretentious

DS: Oh god. 

ER: fine. 

DS: Alright, have fun with the elder Beast. 

ER: hes rearranging my furniture. 

EH: in a good way or a bad way? 

DS: Insert your cruxite dowel into the Totem Lathe. Then insert your pre-punched card into the Lathe as well. 

ER: um, it looks like its meant to be some kind of effigy. 

ER: RORY PLEASE PUT OUT THAT FIRE

ER: HE SET THE FURNITURE ON FIRE

EH: Mr. Card would never set /my/ furniture on fire. 

ER: RORY ITS SPREADING!!

DS: Alright. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A bucket of water, tossed onto the fire (which appears _not_ to have any oil in origin, thank Mary), seems to be good enough at dousing it. Rory also picks up another book and clobbers the demon on the head with it. 

Ah, god damn it. 

  
  


ER: th

ER: thank you rory. 

ER: its the only fucking time youll ever hear it from me. 

EH: your Guide sounds evil

EH: but it could be good for killing imps

DS: Oh. 

DS: Shit. 

EH: language

DS: I think I may have double programmed your guide. 

ER: ...you fucking IDIOT. 

ER: with the water???

ER: with WHAT???

EH: what does that even mean?

DS: With the book. 

DS: Pray tell, what was that book about? 

ER: I DONT KNOW!!

ER: hes shifting around, its like hes in some kind of limbo, whered you pick the book UP from???

EH: limbo as in the game or limbo as in the religious term? 

ER: limbo as in a state of stasis. 

DS: I picked it up off the top of your bookshelf. 

EH: interesting

ER: you fucking idiot. 

ER: that was an HP LOVECRAFT COLLECTION. 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [4:29PM]

  
  


DS: Oh. 

DS: Fuck. 

EH: ?

ER: we just programmed THE BEAST with the original ELDRITCH BEINGS. 

ER: oh. 

ER: THATS why i cant tell what he is. 

ER: hes part eldritch being now. hes literally impossible for human minds to even comprehend.

EH: is it a kind Eldritch being

ER: ...hes not setting my shit on fire. 

SS: o wait did my powr come bak

ER: on the other hand, thats probably because he just left, through the window. 

EH: your power went out? 

ER: ...SOMEONES going to have to deal with that. 

SS: wtf hapnd

EH: I hope it isn’t me ):

DS: Well, that leaves us with. 

EH: ER accidentally made Satan

ER: shut up devon, that was your fault. 

SS: ????????????

ER: no one even told me what the prototyping would do!!

EH: how was it my fault you are incompetent? 

ER: if i knew what the program would do i wouldnt have used the diviners!!

VP: Can you stop blaming everyone, Dirk, and just try to continue? 

ER: FINE!! NOW WHAT???

SS: guys 2 b fare er didnt no

ER: SEE???

EH: well he should have read the walk through

DS: Well, at least they’ll have some affinity for us. 

SS: lets just tri to handell it

DS: My imps are behaving like puppy dogs

ER: just tell me what to fucking do so i can leave

DS: Have you carved your totem? 

ER: and what the FUCK does that mean???

DS: You’re a fucking idiot. 

DS: Let me do it for you you infant. 

ER: do it then!! i dont want to FUCKING talk to you!!

SS: er dont u dare leaf aftre this u ned to be my server

ER: just leave me the fuck ALONE!!

SS: as son as i get the game

ER: why are you ALWAYS FUCKING LIKE THIS???

DS: Now just do whatever the fuck you need to with the item and piss off. 

SS: ill red the walktho 2 propair

ER: FINE!!

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline and FUCKING PISSED!! dont fucking TALK to me.!** [4:53PM]

  
  


VP: WHAT HAVE YOU DONE???????

SS: ER NO WAIT ILL DYE

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In his home in the windy city, Dirk raises the photo frame in his hand, then, bringing his knee up to meet it, he throws it down, smashing the frame and the glass within. 

  
  


SS: ...

SS: im fcucking go 2 sleep i haf the worse hedake

VP: I’m going to fund out how to make a bow. 

EH: probably some sticks and string? And I’m sure Dirk won’t let you die...

SS: pm me wen i ned to enter

  
  


**sexySlytherin** has left memo **RE: PRETENTIOUS ASSHOLE BRIGADE** on board **MY HAT**.  [4:54PM]

  
  


VP: I’ll use a stick and rope. 

VP: I have arrows. 

  
  


**vividParadox** is now **Inactive and hunting!** [4:55PM]

  
  


**vividParadox** is now **No longer hunting!** [6:22PM]

  
  


VP: I couldn’t kill the little bugs in my house. 

VP: Is not a single person here to offer me advice? 

VP: Normally someone would be yelling at me by now. 

VP: Consider me impressed.

  
  


Meanwhile

Tommaso awakens to a phone beeping wildly at him. 

  
  


did you fall asleep again?

  
  


Yeah I just said I would 

Is it my turn to enter the game? 

  
  


Not sure. No one is answering. 

  
  


Grate, now what? 

  
  


Have there been meteor warnings  
in your area yet? 

  
  


No that i know off. Again I was  
sleeping all dat

  
  


Does your area have sirens?  
Mine does. 

Did? 

  
  


Idk we never had a crises like  
this before

Probably? 

Even then I still have no game 

  
  


You can download a link Rory  
sent. Here I’ll send it. 

[ www.download-sburb- ](http://www.download-sburb.com/session-1092) [ illegally ](http://www.download-sburb.com/session-1092) [ .com/session-1092 ](http://www.download-sburb.com/session-1092)

  
  


I can download it on my phone? 

  
  


No. 

  
  


Oh then you’re need to send it on  
grout champ

  
  


VP: [ www.download-sburb- ](http://www.download-sburb.com/session-1092) [ illegally ](http://www.download-sburb.com/session-1092) [ .com/session-1092 ](http://www.download-sburb.com/session-1092)

  
  


Sent. 

  
  


Thank 

  
  


**sexySlytherin** is now **Online!** [6:49PM]

  
  


VP: Oh goodie. 

SS: monin

VP: It’s night.

SS: im donloudin it

SS: 0%

VP: Joy. 

SS: shhh

SS: ill let it do its thin, ill chek male

VP: There’s no need to now? 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Offline!** [6:57PM]

  
  


VP: Damn.

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Looking up soft yaoi!** [6:57PM]

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [7:17PM]

  
  


SS: ali wtf

VP: I’m truthful. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is **No longer sinning!** [7:17PM]

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!**

  
  


EH: what did I miss? 

SS: hey eh

VP: SS is getting the game

EH: oh great! You won’t die after all (:

SS: idk bout that

VP: That’s... Something. 

SS: ether im high af or its still 0%.

EH: oh I hope you aren’t “high” 

EH: that would be quite a nuisance

SS: and the 1st is tru but its still 0%

SS: wtf how long dos it take

VP: SS is a drug user.

EH: oh goodness!

EH: are they... illegal? 

VP: Yeah. 

SS: ali stfu

VP: I assume

VP: What? 

SS: $trigerd

EH: oh my! Well I wish you the best of luck! Don’t get caught with them

VP: “Striggered”?

EH: I believe he meant to do a hashtag

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** has changed their chumhandle to **dongersignTrigger [DT]**!  [7:20PM]

  
  


DT: twas intenshunal I promis

VP: Should I call you DT now? 

EH: I have been killing more imps by the way. My sword dice are pretty cool! They do magic stuff

DT: nice

VP: I couldn’t bring myself to kill them. 

DT: y not

EH: but they give you more of the gems you need

EH: to make stuff

VP: They are living beings. I couldn’t kill them. 

EH: they are evil though

VP: I just can’t!

DT: -sais in a democic toan- its just a GAME

EH: I’ve given up on trying to correct your language

EH: anyway you easily let the rest of the earth die to my knowledge

EH: it should be no different

VP: No! This way I’m doing the killing!

EH: I suppose... 

VP: Directly by force!

EH: but techniquely they aren’t even “alive” 

EH: they are coded creatures

VP: So what?

DT: ~~technically*~~

EH: you aren’t killing

EH: just decoding

EH: or something

EH: anyway, I set up a trap for them and it seems to be working well (:. I’ve received lots of grist from them

DT: gud

DT: that’s the stuf 4 ur hoes bu=ilding rite? 

EH: hoes? 

EH: I don’t refer to my sexual partners like that

DT: lol house*

EH:oh... Yes! It is. It’s also for making cool stuff

DT: oh ye, I rember reding bout perf generik objecs

EH: don’t waste grist on those

EH: they’re just cubes :(

DT: lol ye i know

EH: is your game any farther along in the loading process DT? 

DT: let me chek

DT: nop. 0%

EH: it will speed up the loading process if you close background applications

VP: Do you think I could just... Stun the little bugs?

VP: Like not kill them? 

EH: probably

DT: if u WAT 2 b broke

DT: & gud idea, ill do dat

  
  


**dongersignTriggered [DT]** is now **Offline!** [7:28PM]

  
  


EH: oh my... I do hope he makes it

EH: I suppose I should go do work since nobody is online. I have these pink Komodo dragons knocking on my door. I think they want something

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Idle!** [8:01PM]

  
  


VP: Great. Alone again. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Idle!** [8:01PM]

  
  
  



	5. Celebrity

Saturday, November 7, 2015

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online!** [2:02AM]

  
  


ER: god, i hate fucking all of you. 

ER: i dont know why i even talk to you people anymore. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **No longer** idle **!** [2:02AM]

  
  


VP: That’s a little rude. 

ER: shut up. 

ER: im here because wherever your stupid game put me, its boring as HELL. 

ER: theres just some kind of fucking... PARTICULATE in the air. 

ER: its hard to BREATHE. 

VP: I’ve made no progress. 

ER: “progress” 

ER: what do you define as progress here, ali???

VP: I haven’t left my room. I tried but then the dudebro dogs attacked me. 

ER: what dogs???

ER: there arent any of those near ME. 

ER: are we even in the same place???

VP: Little things with fedoras. 

VP: What’s your scenery look like? 

ER: i dont fucking KNOW what my scenery looks like. 

ER: i cant hardly SEE anything. 

ER: theres some kind of smoke EVERYWHERE. 

VP: Where I am, it's very clear, but like, mirrors everywhere. Kinda creeping me out. 

ER: its irritating my throat as much as it is ME. 

VP: Just make a gas mask!

ER: and how would i do that???

VP: Use codes or mash together items with the machines. The interface calls it an Alchemiter.

ER: this is bullshit. 

ER: i combined a clown mask and part of my ac system. what do i get??? not a fucking gas mask thats for sure. 

VP: Be more exact. You’re combining vague items. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Inactive!** [2:17AM]

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!** [8:34AM]

  
  


EH: You haven’t left your room yet VP!?

EH: You’re missing out on a lot!

EH: and it sounds like you should put out whatever fire is causing smoke ER

EH: has anyone else noticed that the imps are seeming to get bigger? 

EH: Mr. Card barely managed to save me from the last one!

VP: “imps”? 

EH: yeah! The little monsters that bug you? 

VP: That’s what the dogs are called? 

EH: Are they dogs? They don't look like dogs!

EH: mine look like fluffy bunnies. With royal wear!

EH: Mr. Card implied they were called imps

EH: Not to be mistaken with the friendly pink Komodo dragons

EH: I gave them a yellow flower and they looked happy. I think they want more

VP: They’re wearing fedoras and they have fur. 

VP: They are terrifying

EH: kill them

EH: they give you the stuff you need

VP: No!

EH: why not ?:

VP: I’m not going to kill an innocent being!

EH: well they’re trying to kill you >.<

VP: They are? 

EH: yes! I believe so anyway! A big one nearly killed me a couple moments ago

VP: Oh. well then...

VP: I guess I have no other choice?

EH: they are evil and you need the stuff

EH: Mr. Card told me I need a big house

VP: Alright I’ll be back

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Killing small animals**! [8:42AM]

  
  


EH: oh dear. Don’t die!

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Regretting she didn’t start this sooner**!

[9:15AM]

  
  


VP: THIS IS SUCH A RUSH!!!

EH: Don’t get carried away... There are some friendly people in there too. 

VP: I DON’T CARE RIGHT NOW I’M GETTING A LOT OF DROPS!

EH: yikes

EH: I can see why your friends think you like genocide...

VP: OH SHUT UP THESE AREN’T PEOPLE!

EH: be sure to save some so that you can get your house bigger!

EH: apparently that’s important

VP: THAT’S THE ONLY REASON WHY I’M DOING THIS

EH: well calm down...

VP: Sorry. I got carried away. 

EH: yes but at least you accept that!

VP: Yeah. True. 

EH: that’s the first step of Recovery!

VP: Recovery of what? 

EH: of insanity 0_0

VP: I am not insane!

EH: d: whatever you say

VP: That was rather offensive. I'm not insane. 

EH: this is what happens when I try to make jokes ):

EH: I suppose I’ll go back to being the serious one

VP: Dirk is the serious one. 

EH: the classy one

EH: whatever

VP: Then which one am I? 

EH: the bipolar one

VP: I’m not bipolar. 

EH: but you really didn’t want to kill them at first but now you’re on a murder spree

VP: It’s not murder! They’re not human! You even said yourself they were trying to kill me. 

EH: yeah but

EH: you’re very enthusiastic about it

EH: plus it is murder

EH: just in self defense

VP: It isn’t murder!

EH: whatever you say

VP: Why does everyone hate me? 

EH: I don’t hate you ;~;

VP: It seems like it. 

EH: I’m just stating facts. It doesn’t mean you aren’t a good person ^_^

EH: I’m technically a murderer too

EH: probably on a larger scale since I’ve been doing it longer

VP: Everyone is then. 

EH: but it’s for good reason

EH: technically the high one isn’t

EH: and I don’t know if any of the others have killed imps yet

EH: isn’t Rory’s brother not a murderer too? 

EH: technicalities

VP: I hate technicalities. 

ER: AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAH HAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA!!

ER: GUESS WHOS GOT

ER: A MOTHERFUCKING

ER: MACHINE GUN!!

ER: it says ARSENAL on the side. 

ER: do you know why???

ER: its because im a MOTHERFUCKING ARSENAL. 

ER: TAKE THAT YOU SHINY FUCKS!!

EH: remind me to stay away from you

ER: this is SO COOL!!

ER: i feel so... POWERFUL. 

VP: Dirk calm down. 

ER: ITS SO COOL!!

ER: I LOVE GUNS. 

VP: I know how fucking awesome it feels to have a weapon but just calm down. 

ER: i could KILL you if i wanted to!! i can kill ANYTHING!!

ER: this is SO COOL!!

VP: You don’t want to kill anyone on this team. 

ER: oh really???

ER: um, rory. 

ER: but that wasnt the point. 

ER: this gun is SO COOL!!

VP: Dirk. 

EH: please don’t kill people on the team

EH: that would be very troublesome

VP: My point exactly. 

EH: Mr. Card would rip you up >.<

ER: god i wont. 

ER: but look at these SHINY FUCKS getting their BRAINS BLOWN OUT!!

ER: HAH!!

ER: i LOVE this!!

ER: why are these trolls so sparkly???

EH: calm down! My gosh. Am I the only normal one here

ER: are you guys seeing these fucked up garden gnomes too???

EH: kinda? 

ER: the fuck ARE they???

ER: you know what they are??? susceptible to FIREARMS is what they are!!

EH: um... They are supposed to be imps

EH: they big ones are very tough!!! >: (

EH: according to Mr. Card they are ogres

VP: Dirk. Calm the fuck down. 

ER: dont fucking tell me what to do ali. 

ER: and devon how would you know???

EH: I fought a few of them

EH: and language

ER: fuck. right. off. 

EH: language you classless fiend

VP: I wouldn’t offend Dirk. 

ER: i am going to fucking kill you with my fucking submachine gun as soon as i can find you on this godforsaken rock. 

VP: They can hold a grudge. 

ER: ^^^

EH: I have my dice and Mr. Card to help me

ER: ??? what the fuck are dice going to do for you???

EH: they do weird things

EH: they set an imp on fire

EH: and decapitated one

EH: it all depends on what I roll

VP: Oh my god. 

  
  


**dongersignTriggered [DT]** is now **Online!** [3:07PM]

  
  


DT: eyy 2 many msgs 2 red wut hapened

EH: Oh hello! Do you have the game yet DT???

DT: no I swer my comp is brok

ER: yo what is up my man???

DT: hey

EH: Dirk has a gun >.<

EH: he wants to shoot me up >.<

EH: Ali went crazy for a second

EH: but she’s ok now

DT: drik no

ER: is ali ever really okay???

ER: like, AT ALL???

VP: Tommaso I need help. 

DT: yeah ali? 

VP: Everyone thinks I’m crazy and Devon called me bipolar. 

EH: and I got my day wrecked by a big imp ):

VP: I’m clearly not crazy. 

DT: guys don gang up on da poo ali

ER: god shut up ali no one cares. 

DT: por*

DT: poo ali lol

VP: Why is it okay to bully me

EH: I like you ^_^

EH: just not your homicidal tendencies

ER: thats because youre a whore, devon. 

EH: language!!

EH: and I am not a harlot!

ER: dont knock it til you try it. 

EH: I am remaining abstinent until marriage!

VP: I DON’T HAVE HOMICIDAL TENDENCIES AND I AM NOT CRAZY!!!

DT: srsly were like playin 2gethr 4 lif nao, we ned to get ourshit 2geth

EH: maybe you should get a little less drunk

EH: or high

EH: or learn English

ER: let him do his shit. 

ER: and dont fucking criticize someones TYPING. 

ER: do you have any idea how rude that is???

DT: thanks er

EH: calm down angry pants

DT: ali is not a kilr shes just constently misinterped

VP: Thank you Tommaso!!

EH: what are you going to do? Shoot me? 

ER: maybe so, devon. 

EH: you can try (;

ER: and i damn well will as soon as i can leave this FUCKING house.

EH: ~~the gun would probably jam~~

ER: has anyone seen navo???

ER: i tried to message her but i havent gotten an answer yet.

DT: same

EH: probably dead if that’s the case

EH: ):

ER: no way, navos too cool for that. 

ER: shed find a way. 

EH: meteors are a mess on earth now

EH: didn't that walkthrough say it was only supposed to take a day? It doesn't LOOK half destroyed, and it's been half a day

EH: so... Idk about navo

DT: wel if she ded then I wod prob be next to enter an i her no sirens

EH: ^translation please

ER: are you trying to be a bitch???

DT: ill type slowly for that

ER: dont just GIVE it to him tommaso. 

EH: I am going to live the rest of my days

EH: with illiterate fools

EH: I have the right to be a bitch ):

DT: well if shes dead then I would probably be next to enter the game and I don’t hear any evacuation sirens right now

EH: ^ perfect!!!

EH: if I could give you a cookie I would

ER: devon!! stop it!!

EH: quality writing Tommaso

ER: let him type the way he does, its not HURTING anyone. 

DT: thx drik

EH: candy will be waiting for you when we meet

EH: I will make some right now

EH: and it hurts my eyes Dirk

EH: Regardless of his writing skills, we still need to get him into the game at some point. Any ideas? 

ER: why cant we just get him in now???

ER: why cant we do for him what we did for the rest of us???

EH: his severe lack of the game is a factor

ER: i can email it to him. 

EH: it won’t download is the issue

EH: have you been reading the chat at all?

ER: shut UP devon, ive been busy with other things. 

EH: like crafting a gun and going insane perhaps?

ER: like trying to figure out how to get past the SMOG all around my FUCKING HOUSE!!

ER: im trying to get out and HELP you people!!

ER: wrap your tiny fucking brain around it!!

EH: !!!

EH: language

EH why don’t you build a giant fan of some sort? 

EH: or a gas mask

ER: i TRIED building a gas mask!

ER: it didnt fucking work. 

EH: well try harder

ER: and the smoke wont budge!! i MADE a fan!!

EH: well

EH: have you considered that’s your mission? Get rid of the smog

ER: what do you mean mission???

DT: mb u arnt suposed 2 leave

EH: probably a magic item you get from a boss

ER: did you assign each other mission objectives without me???

EH: idk. Video game logic right? 

DT: this games p onomous

EH: it is DT... It is

ER: see??? you can read tommasos messages just fine.

DT: sounds liek a lot of mission shit if iv evr seen it

EH: have you asked your Guide about it?

EH: mine is very helpful ^_^

DT: ^ gud idea

ER: have YOU been reading the chat???

ER: my guide is GONE. 

DT: i mean bad idea

EH: oh right....

EH: well make it come back

DT: eh duh of curse he doesn’t have his sprit

EH: curse

DT: -didnt no myself-

ER: what do you mean make it come back???

ER: i do NOT need fucking satan-guide back over here. 

ER: he set my furniture on FIRE last time in a shrine to HIMSELF. 

EH: uv curse he losst his spiitee? 

DT: eh ffs stfu

EH: mayb I shuld tipe lik an illiterate freak

VP: Sorry I was trying to make a better bow; what’d I miss? 

ER: devon stop it!!

ER: DONT call him a freak!!

VP: Oh. I walked into a sticky situation. 

EH: not a freak. You’re right

EH: just uneducated I suppose

  
  


**dongersignTriggered [DT]** is now **Idle and prob not gon back soon**!  [3:19PM]

  
  


ER: devon!! look what you did!!

EH: am I supposed to feel bad? 

ER: DEVON!!

ER: stop it!! please!!

EH: if he typed like a normal person

EH: there would be no issue

EH: he seems nice enough

VP: Devon you fucking prick get over yourself you were not put on this earth to have everyone circle around you so get your head out of your ass and learn how to talk to people you are stuck with for eternity

EH: obviously I was put on earth to watch it explode

EH: and deal with you

EH: and beat this game

ER:I just want to HELP!! what is WRONG with you???

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline and not crying!!!** [3:20PM]

  
  


VP: You fucking prick

EH: ouch

EH: your limited vocabulary hurts

VP: Your sad excuse for people skills hurts. 

EH: good

EH: why don’t you get back to being a murderer

EH: and I’ll focus on my stuff

VP: I am not a murderer. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Offline and definitely making more progress than you**!  [3:21PM]

  
  


VP: Progress doesn’t matter individually. Without everyone else your effort is futile. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!** [7:10PM]

  
  


EH: Build your houses up

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Offline!** [7:10PM]

  
  



	6. Uncertainty

Sunday, November 8th, 2015

**dongersignTriggered [DT]** is now **Online!** [1:33PM]

  
  


VP: Welcome back

DT: GUYS HELP I WOKE 2 SIRENS

VP: Told ya.

DT: ALSO HAD A DREM

VP: What was it? 

DT: I WAS ON A PURPLE PLANET W/ WERD MNSTRS WISPER

DT: WHAT EVER

DT: SOM1 GET ME IN

VP: I had an odd dream myself a couple night ago. 

VP: I was on a golden planet. 

VP: Castle points as far as the eye could see

DT: GET ME IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIN

DT: FUK MY GAMS STILL NOT HER

DT: E

VP: Oh no. 

DT: IM GONNA DIE FUK

  
  


**dongersignTriggered [DT]** is now **Disconnected!** [1:35PM]

  
  


VP: Oh no. 

VP: Dirk what are we gonna do???

VP: The walkthrough said 24 hours though???

VP: SON OF A BITCH!

  
  


**vividParadox** is now **Violently playing clarinet to calm down**! [1:36PM]

  
  


**Tommaso Mambelli** is **going to die** [1:36PM]

  


unless he thinks quickly. _Keep calm. Evaluate your circumstances for five minutes, by the clock – then come up with solutions._ Constraint: his bandwidth can’t handle the game download. Constraint: his copy isn’t coming. Constraint: he’s altogether screwed. _You have – according to the news sources – at least_ _twenty_ _minutes._

_Your exam begins now._

He touches the pad of his fingers to his thumb, but he's starting to get dizzy, his breathing fast, not enough, fast, shallow – _fuck_ , his room is so _stuffy –_

Everything goes black. 

In a related development, the Mage awakens on Derse. 

_Constraints: my bandwidth cannot handle the game; my copy isn't coming. Discover alternative solutions. Begin._ Here on this purple moon (chained to a larger celestial body, though Tommaso hasn't found the point of origin for that chain yet), it's so much easier to think clearly, soberly, even though it's a dream, even though Tom _knows_ it's a dream. For the Voidish, now remains the most perfect time to think. 

Above him deities whisper, and Tommaso Mambelli turns his gaze skyward. _They seem docile enough. Dark, sure, shadowy and ominous, but that's not the same thing as_ evil... _Of course, they could just be acting docile. I suppose._ Inspired, Tommaso's eyes slide to the right, settling on a certain tower containing a lean, hard frame, hair blond and chat handle beginning with a conspicuously neon _E_.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Land of Paint and Labyrinth, Devon Hart grows tired. Being bested – getting your ass handed to you, really – will tend to take quite a bit out of you, especially when you weren't really expecting it, like, at all. Devon yawns... 

  


Meanwhile: 

You, Tommaso Mambelli, slap Devon Hart as hard as is humanly possible. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“What?” Devon says groggily, his short, normally-neat hair a mess of cowlick and horse saliva.

“Fuckboy. Listen the fuck up.” 

“Language! Wait… Tommaso? Where _am_ I?”

“ DEVON STOP BEING A FUCKBOY AND LISTEN TO ME. You’re on Derse, somewhere else in the Medium. If you want me to _live_ , you’re going to have to wake up and find something called the Veil. Use the sendificator to send me your flash drive at the following coordinates: 45.5229° N, 122.9898° W.” All of this is said without the slightest pause for breath. The Dark Gods are generous with their knowledge, but it is, after all, _dark_ , and even a Void player can only entertain the obscurity for so long before it begins to fade.

“My gosh!" Devon gasps.  "This sounds like a lot of work! Do you honestly expect me to do that, after you were so _rude?_ The least you could do is say _please_.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Tom says, rolling his eyes, shoving him off the bed. “I forgot to mention that _my_ life – means your life. If the player chain doesn’t close, then you'll die.” _..._ _according to the_ _admittedly dubious information of the_ _whispers above,_ Tom does not say. 

“Um… Well… Right now? Can’t I explore this place? It looks medieval. Besides, you’re still being so _rude_ about it!"  Sitting up, he crosses his arms. "Besides, what flash drive? The one with Sburb on it?” 

"What _other_ flash drive, Devon? A nd yes, now. I'm dying _now!_ ”

“Alright. Promise me you’ll do me a favor when you wake up, though. For saving your life, and all.” 

“Fine.” 

“Promise?” 

“What’s your terms?” 

“I’ll decide on that later. Just know you owe me something. Fair?” 

“I would have thought that saving your life would be reward enough, since you know, client-server software chain, if I die, you die. But fine. Just don’t fucking kill me or anything.” 

“Alright. I’ll try not to die on my way through the effing _Amazon_. How  do I use the... device?” 

“The sendificator? It’s an aimy-shooty. Just plug in the coordinates and push the button!” 

“Um… Okay. How do I get back to… wherever I was before?” 

“Also, I think that Veil might be close by, but obviously you need to get the drive, first.” 

“Veil?” 

"Listen, just wake _up_ and fly up here with the flash drive.” 

“ _Fly?_ ” 

“Yeah, to the laboratory in the Veil. With the sendificator. I hope you realize it’s not on your land.” 

Devon shakes his head. “Oh, goodness... Not on my _land?"_ He peers at Tom for a long moment. "How about you just explain it to me, right," he says, gestures vague, "as if you were explaining it to a child?” 

“I can’t really, the gods were really picky with their info. See, it's like \- ”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Back on Earth, Tommaso Mambelli awakens. 

The drug fog has cleared up, and he doesn’t expect to take another hit any time soon. 

"God fucking damn it." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Alright, then…” Devon walks off in a direction vaguely away from the collapsed body of a drunkard. _Wake up, huh?_ In mild disbelief of what he's about to do, Devon sighs, aligns himself, and smashes his head into the nearest stone wall. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!** [1:39PM]

  
  


**dongersignTriggered [DT]** is now **Online!** [1:40PM]

  
  


EH: I had a weird dream and I think I’m supposed to save somebody

DT: u r

DT: sav me

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **No longer biting the reed off of her instrument**!  [1:45PM]

  
  


VP: Are things okay yet

DT: i guss?

EH: alright... You owe me!

DT: i mean they said fly

DT: so idk, try anyway

  
  


Devon sighs and, in a fit of frustration, sweeps a pile of papers off of his office desk. _Where did I put that darned drive?_

  
  


EH: Ali... 

VP: What? 

EH: I may need some assistance

EH: Do you know where I put my flash drive? 

EH: can you see it on your computer

VP: Into your computer or...?

EH: no I removed it and set it down somewhere

VP: It’s next to the Alchemiter

EH: thank you ^_^.

  
  


_Great!_ Devon kicks off for a purple planet in the distance _._ “This better work…” 

  
  


DT: thx ali ur always makin me les likely 2 dyr

VP: No prob bob

DT: y wkno its hard 2 slep with impendng doom & syrens

  
  


Flash drive in hand, Devon alights on Derse with a _massive_ headache. _Flying?_ _Someplace I've never even_ heard _of?_ “If I haven't heard of it, it's not worth visiting. I've got better things to do than search for a celestial body of _unknown origin_ ,” Devon chuckles, affecting a high-class, aristocratic tone and setting the drive down atop a sleeping Tommaso. “Have fun with that, champ.” 

Devon Hart... well, he _tries_ to awaken. Thing is, it's kind of difficult to sleep with your head pounding like it's been slammed into a stone wall (which, in one body, it has). _Wonder what else there is to do around here?_

  
  


♞

  
  


EH: Tommaso I didn’t know what to do so I put the flash drive on your head d:

  


The Mage awakens to an absent Heir. 

This is _not_ what he told Devon to do. 

  


Meanwhile: 

On the Land of Paint and Labyrinth, Devon stares down at his dreaming self, his mobile oddly insubstantial, but it serves its purpose well enough. 

  
  


VP: What? You met Tommaso? 

VP: How? 

EH: with dreams and shit

VP: I wanna meet people in dreams and shit

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom sighs as he picks up the drive, floating about the towers. The next room over contains another person whose selfies he’s seen on the blog before. It would be a lie to say that Tom is _exactly_ and _unambiguously_ sure of which moderator this is, but no doubt remains that this is one of them. 

_How to do this humanely?_

He shakes Dirk violently. 

  
  


EH: pardon my French

EH: I’ve been talking to you for too long!!

VP: What? 

EH: not you specifically

EH: I mean the crowd

VP: Okay. 

EH: ~~mostly Dirk~~

  
  


The kid stirs. He uncurls from his position on the bed, and as he moves to stand you can see tear tracks on his face. _H_ _as he been crying in his sleep?_

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Waiting until she is needed again**!  [1:57PM]

  
  


“Are… you okay?” Despite the wakeful eyes, despite the new proximity, Tom still doesn’t quite recognize him. He doesn't interact much with the mods sober; he's not really equipped, socially, to interact with anyone sober... _Let’s face it, the only reason_ _I_ _knew which one Devon was is because of the_ _Dark Gods_ _._

The boy stares at Tom, his eyes wide with shock, the tears slowing. Then his face screws up again and he shoves him out of the way, running for the window. 

“...Dirk?” Tom calls out, finally connecting  the face to a name. _What happened to him?_ " Dirk!" he says again, only as the taller boy is falling from the window. Hopefully he knows he can fly on Derse... "Get on chat when you wake up!" Tom yells. _He must have already dreamed here..._ _h_ _e knows he can fly, right?_

Whatever. Shaking his head and examining the drive in his hand, Tom exits the bedroom, flying directly for the Veil. 

  
  


**dongersignTriggered [DT]** is now **Disconnected!** [1:58PM]

  
  


It takes a couple of minutes to get to the Veil, and as far as Tommaso knows he’s already died. Finding the lab and sendificating the drive turns out to be much easier than he'd expected. Halfway back to Derse, Tommaso's flying wavers... 

Back on Earth, Tom plugs in the flash drive, and then realizes that his power has, yet again, gone out, in approximately that order. _Well, life was fun while it lasted._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Your name is Dirk Quintana. 

You wish it weren’t. 

You don’t often cry yourself to sleep. 

This is mostly due to the fact that you’re usually crying too hard to sleep. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom paces back and forth, waiting for the power to come back on. This happens occasionally - and it usually takes hours, and he doesn't have that long. It’s a good thing his uncles aren’t here anymore, or they’d probably have forced his participation in the evacuation by now. _To be fair, if I were them, I'd force my participation in the evacuation too._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

When you _do_ cry yourself to sleep, you very rarely wake up face-to-face with the internet friend you’ve had a crush on for at least a year now. 

No, you _didn’t_ just purposefully jump out that window. Well... not _really_ , you mean. It was more impulse than anything else. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Also, Tom's still _pretty_ high, if that's any indication of, y'know, anything. Psychologically speaking, he's been kind of, uh... addicted. To this stuff. For... a _long_ time. He'd be hard-pressed to find anyone _physically_ addicted to weed, but there's plenty of lonely, self-destructive kids _psychologically_ addicted to it. Haha. Fun stuff. Anyway. It’s easy to get addicted to stuff when he's his age in an empty house, he guesses. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Waking up with Tommaso there, looking so _concerned_ for you… It was just too much, a little bit. But you managed to slow your descent. After you, you know, jumped. 

Turns out you can fly. 

It's pretty cool. 

Now, though, you're kind of just… running. 

Why is everything here so dark? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom used to enjoy numbing his senses, the darkness resultant from his intoxication. _I mean, there's a reason I do this..._ Or there used to be, at least. Now it's a little lesser, and these comments from people like Devon, they _hurt._ Honestly, it's an obstacle to him. 

His vision, his senses, they're blinded, darker than his lights in these power outages.

Why is everything here so dark? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You wipe tears away, breath rather shuddering. _Why are you such an asshole?_ Even in your head, the question sounds pitiful and plaintive and kind of pathetic. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

At least the smoke has cleared somewhat: enough that if, idk, the _evacuating cops_ come, they won’t be yelling at him for drug use… or, you know, whatever. Whatever's supposed to happen now. 

Tom doesn’t really know how this whole evacuating thing works. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Your feet pump beneath you, slamming down against the… well, whatever material this is. It looks like it, it chips like it, but it doesn’t quite feel like stone. This feeling, it’s good, though. The _smack_ , the pain, it’s a little bit of a release. 

You wish you could run forever and ever. 

You keep running. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom just wants to sleep, but the meteors... If he falls asleep now, if he blocks out everything like he always does, he's not going to see the light again. 

He's not going to see anything again. 

He hates the sun, but at this point, it's fair to say that he hates the shadow more. He just wants to fill the voids in his life, the things he never got to have… A family, for instance; a decent home (or one that doesn't approve of chronic truancy); really, anything other than the shit he’s been doing. 

This is probably what they mean when they talk about getting through the rough patches. 

Y'know, whoever 'they' is.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You just feel so alone. 

You can’t sustain a single friendship. 

Rory’s an ass, Devon’s a bitch, and Ali is just an idiot. Even Navo can get tiring. 

Tommaso’s the only good one. 

(Also, the chances that you just ruined _your_ chances with him are, like, more than 9000%.)

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You just feel so alone. 

And now the apocalypse is happening and not only do you feel disconnected from them, they're all quarreling with each other, and sure their personalities can be inflammatory but not like this. He needs to avoid this kind of hatred, these heated relationships. 

_I hope the others are safe_. It's not like wishes are real, though, are they? So he has no idea, really, how they are. The power's out, his laptops running off battery installing a game that could save the world, and he has no way to contact them without Internet. 

  


Meanwhile: 

And this is why, y'know, _running_ , you guess. To escape these feelings. 

Your name is Dirk Quintana. 

You wish it weren't.

  


Meanwhile: 

He wishes the power would go back on. The darkness has overstayed its welcome. 

  
  


**dongersignTriggered [DS]** is now **Online!** [2:00PM]

  


Well, hopy shit. 

  


DT: HOPY SHIT I’M STILL ALIVE

DT: DIRK FFS WAKE UP

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **No longer idle!** [2:00PM]

  
  


VP: I feel out of the loop clue me in

DT: EH

DT: EH GET ON RIGHT NOW

DT: SOMEONE GET ON

VP: Besides me I assume? 

  
  


**entropicRelativity** **[ER]** is now **Online and FUCK, my head.!** [2:00PM]

  
  


DT: sry u slep on a gold planet

DT: DRIK

VP: I’ll just show myself the door. 

DT: vp no ur improtat

ER: i had a dream. 

DT: I HASS SBRUB HURY

ER: what is it, tommaso???

EH: I’m back

DT: GET ME IN DA GAM

  
  


**vividParadox** is now **Idle!** [2:01PM]

  
  


ER: how do i do that, tommaso???

DT: GAME** NOT MOD GAM THATS WEIRD

ER: yes, i can read your messages, unlike devon. 

DT: do da derver thing

EH: ~~sorry I only read English~~

ER: devon, i dont have time for this and im going to fucking kill you. shut the hell up while tommaso and i figure out how to save his life. 

DT: eh stfu u almos let me dye evn tho u got me the gam

ER: im booting up my computer, tommaso. 

EH: you run the server disc while Tommaso runs the client player game

DT: pls do

EH: it’s pretty simple

ER: okay, i see you. 

DT: ~~oh shit I should have put on pants~~

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk removes all of the furniture from Tom's bedroom (excepting his bed) and dumps it unceremoniously into the living room. There’re more important things to do than keep the place tidy. Twisting to examine his own bedroom, Dirk deploys the three machines that look the most like the ones he sees there. 

  
  


ER: tommaso, do you know what to do from here??? 

DT: ...

EH: ~~He’s probably too high or drunk to know what he’s supposed to do~~

DT: fuck i was alwas gun wen the otehrs got in

EH: though on the purple planet he spoke well enough

DT: wel ye i used my vioc

ER: devon, tell him what to do, because i dont know either. 

EH: oh my goodness. All incompetent fools. 

ER: and know that as soon as i find you, ive decided i AM going to kill you. either that or ill die at your hands. 

EH: you will kill me? You can try I guess

ER: i dont appreciate people insulting my friends. 

  


_Back to business as usual, I suppose._ Even so, Dirk cringes inwardly. 

  


EH: Drop his bed or something on the machine that deploys the Guide

DT: dirk u bae

  
  


He does as Devon tells him, though he uses a heavy-looking safe instead.

  
  


EH: once you do that... Well idk if I should go on

  
  


The kernelsprite emerges.

  
  


EH: since you /are/ going to kill me

  
  


A countdown appears on the guide-producing machine, starting with ( _fuck_ ) a minute. Looks like all that fucking around really caught up. 

  
  


ER: tommaso, choose something to program the guide with. 

ER: make sure its something that can be helpful.

ER: (rory walked me through this part). 

DT: i think i have a tedy bare...ye its here

ER: throw it into the kernelsprite. 

ER: this will be your guide in the game. 

ER: devon, what does he do next???

  
  


Tom throws the stuffed bear in. It's missing an arm and a leg, though that's hardly the most prominent dilemma at the moment. 

  
  


EH: get it from somebody else if you plan on killing me

ER: do you want to be responsible for tommaso dying???

DT: i gess u want 2 die then

DT: bcuz omonos gods told me u die if i die

EH: I’d rather not. sigh

EH: you owe me

  
  


Dirk is feeling a little reinvigorated, with all this talk of people he doesn't like dying. 

  
  


ER: of course i do. now tell him how to get in.

EH: next you make sure nothing else touched your Guide

EH: NOTHING

  
  


Owing Devon? Right. You owe a lot of people things. A surprising amount of them were never paid back. (Well, absolutely surprising. You'd be surprised how many people someone can fall into debt to. Relatively speaking, a ratio of 9:1 unpaid to paid debts for Dirk Quintana isn't a shocker to anyone.)

  
  


ER: or it’ll be bad for you

EH: like dumb Dirk did

DT: hury up i hav 40 sec left

EH: find the pre-punched card

EH: And you use it to get a totem thing

EH: From the machine that looks kinda weird

ER: there should be a slot for it in one of the machines. 

EH: Like magicy

  
  


**dongersignTriggered [DT]** is now **Disconnected!** [2:03PM]

  
  


EH: he better not fucking die

ER: im so... everLASTINGLY... tired of this. 

EH: not even going to worry about my language

ER: mm, good. perhaps you should expand that to everyone else. 

EH: IF HE DIES I DIE AND THAT IS NOT SOMETHING THAT CAN HAPPEN

ER: you didnt seem so eager to help before

EH: I mean, I'm still pretty sure he's lying, but just in case

  
  


Oh. 

Shit. 

_Are you fucking kidding_ _me_ _?_ Abruptly feverish, Tom hopes he doesn’t need a server player past this. 

  
  


EH: He better figure things out on his own. 

  
  


_What_ in the _fuck_ is a _totem_ _?_

  
  


ER: i dont know that he can. 

ER: its tommaso. 

EH: he better not be too fucking drunk or high or whatever

ER: hes ALWAYS high. 

EH: oh lord

ER: well see. 

EH: we are going to die

  
  


Well, the world hasn't blown up yet, which he's pretty sure the majority of people are considering a good thing. _And_ this _thing_ _goes_ here _and_ this _thing goes... Well, that probably went there..._ Tom wishes he had time to just sit down and at _least_ contemplate the futility of this but _it's happening too fast_ \- 

  
  


EH: he /is going to kill us/

ER: if tommaso dies, you die. its not worth exchanging his life for your death. 

  
  


Your name is Tommaso Mambelli, and the universe-saving machine doesn’t seem to be working. 

  


ER: hed better not die, because you damn well know ill blame you. 

EH: and I’ll blame you

You kick it. 

  
  


EH: and nothing will matter

EH: because we’ll be dead

ER: no, i can run the server for you.

  
  


Rough cloth covers your eyes, and you feel a weight appear in your hand. Dropping the object, you tear at the blindfold, but it _refuses_ to come _off_. And, fuck, what in the hell is that object, anyway? Probably important... 

  
  


ER: but we have to be sure hes dead first, or itll destroy the entire session. 

ER: we have to make sure he hasnt and WONT enter. 

EH: and what about what’s her face? 

EH: Nava? Nova?

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **No longer idle!** [2:03PM]

  
  


VP: What am I missing I read death die and dead somewhere

ER: tommaso might die. 

ER: if he does, ill pull devon in instead. 

EH: I’m already in

ER: wait, then why would you have died without him??? the chain, right???

  
  


Even through the darkness of the blindfold, though, you can read: _30_. 

  
  


EH: if he doesn’t get in the stars don’t take us to the right place

EH: that’s what Mr. Card said anyway

ER: what does that even mean??? what stars???

EH: there are these weird symbol things

EH: that take us places

EH: which is why we need a big house

EH: you would know if you talked to your Guide

EH: oh wait

EH: you made the devil

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Inactive!** [2:03PM]

  
  


VP: SOMEONE HAS GOT TO EXPLAIN WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING RIGHT NOW

EH: Tommaso has to get in the game but his wifi crashed

  
  


“What the fuck do I do?” you say aloud, panic creeping into your voice and driving it higher, your knees aching from your position on the scratchy carpet as you search (and find). “What is this?” 

  
  


VP: Oh goodie. 

EH: we are all dead basically if he doesn’t get in

  
  


“Am I supposed to guess it? Is it a box?” 

  
  


EH: /DEAD/

VP: Wonderful

  
  


“A really big _die?_ ” Fuck. 

  
  


**dongersignTriggered [DT]** is now **Online!** [2:03PM]

  
  


VP: TOM!

EH: YOURE ONLINE??

ER: tom. 

EH: PUT THE TOTEM ON THE PEDESTAL

  
  


The hum of the fluorescents downstairs is what tips you off that the power is back on, but you _still can't_ see. 

  
  


EH: AND BREAK WHATEVER COMES OUT!

ER: quickly. 

EH: that’s what we had to do!!!

  
  


What is it?

  
  


ER: tommaso have you done it yet???

ER: break it. 

  
  


Well, you can still read... 

_10_. 

  
  


EH: what if he’s dead and that’s why he’s not responding

EH: unlikely

ER: tommaso, i can see you, i can see the countdown on my screen, break it!!

EH: since he’s online

ER: tommaso, youve got 4 seconds, BREAK IT!!

EH: What’s he doing???

  
  


You're so fucking _frustrated –_ you just want to crush it, but something tells you not to. “Polution," you say desperately – _3 –_ listing topics, just in case one might be _relevant_ – "economy, alchemy - ”

  
  


EH: Dirk break it for him!!! DO SOMETHING!!!

_2_ – " IT'S A _FUCKING_ PERFECTLY GENERIC OBJECT!” 

  
  


Meanwhile:

_1 –_ Dirk uses his cursor to grab whatever’s in Tommaso’s hands and smash it against the wall. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Some force snatches the PGO from your hand, but as you dive after it the blindfold disappears, and you experience an instant of weightlessness, of disorientation, the world spinning around you – 

Your name is Tommaso Mambelli, and you have entered the Land of Night and Bullshit. 

  
  


DT: did i do it

ER: dont ignore us. 

EH: well you aren’t dead

EH: SO YES! THANK GOODNESS

  


**dongersignTriggered [DT]** is now **not dead**! [2:04PM]

  


ER: dont scare me the way you did ever again, tommaso. 

ER: i cant take it.

EH: I AM SO GLAD YOU LIVED

DT: sam, sry dirk

DT: same*

ER: apology accepted. 

EH: REJOICE!

EH: now we need to get the nova girl in and we’re set

DT: phew, i feel invigriatd now

DT: i fel like i can take on the world

VP: Is that a good thing?

DT: but its p fuking dark

ER: now program your guide with something else. 

DT: invidorated*

ER: i think thats what everyone else did after they got here. 

DT: invigorated*

EH: ^_^ I’m glad you are correcting your typing

EH: it makes my heart smile

DT: manly doin it with horbly speld words

EH: ): bummer

DT: like 1s u cant undrstnd

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Inactive!** [2:11PM]

  
  


**dongersignTri** **gg** **ered [DT]** has changed their chumhandle to **sexySlytherin [SS]**!  [2:49PM]

  
  


VP: Oh good. 

SS: dat was buggng me

VP: SS do me a favor? 

SS: sur

VP: Could you tell me what your dream was like? 

SS: o ye that was an advetare

VP: Mainly just where you were?

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Offline!** [2:50PM]

  
  


SS: it wus like a purple planat... like that mincraft shit... obsiderat? 

SS: obsedan? 

VP: Were there buildings? 

SS: ye

SS: big city

VP: I wish I could dream on the planet with you guys

VP: Everyone seems to be on the purple one. 

SS: full of adorbs black people

SS: i mean pich blak

VP: I know what you mean

SS: like jet blak

VP: Why was I stuck with the golden one? 

VP: It hurts my eyes, damnit. 

SS: idk mabe u got da gud 1

SS: and were evil or some shit

VP: Then why is no one else on the good one with me? 

VP: is everyone bad? 

SS: lol

VP: Sorry. I just find it funny because I’m constantly being called genocidal and homicidal. 

VP: If I’m so bad, why am I on the good planet? 

SS: ur not bad

SS: idk imnot ether

SS: or dirk

VP: Is your planet blinding too? 

SS: idk

SS: nah its mor blind as in u cant c shit

VP: Everything is such a shiny clean gold. Almost like it itself is the sun. 

SS: a lot of cryme & dark ali ways

VP: *alleyways

VP: I am not a way

SS: o do u hav the demon god things

SS: that wisper u secrets

VP: The what I haven’t even dreamed shit I just saw my ceiling. Maybe? 

VP:Should I /try/ to dream on it? 

SS: mabe, ill drem 2 to c if i can find u

VP: Great!

SS: idt ud be 2 far away from derse

SS: if theeyr evn nerby each othr

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Idle!** [3:03PM]

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Idle!** [3:03PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Your name is Ali Bradford. 

You spin away from your computer desk and go to your bed. _I need_ rest _..._

Except. 

There is no bed. 

Just machines.

Your bed is in the attic. _Thanks, Rory._ A couple minutes later, though, a spare blanket found in your closet serves basically the same purpose. The carpeting in your room is _soft,_ anyway. It's shockingly comfortable. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the moon of Prospit, an Heir awakens. 

Your eyes fly open, excitement flooding your veins, and then you shut your eyes as tightly as possible, cursing human curiosity as the reflectivity of the room blinds you instantly. Tom did _some_ shit with a flash drive – you didn't read all the messages – but if you can take stuff down here you'll be bringing your old sunglasses next time. Rolling onto your side and examining the small room reveals a rather large window – _French, right?_ \- but no door. _Alright, that's weird..._

Standing, you find yourself peering down at the frankly _garish_ clothing you're suddenly dressed in, attention drawn by ruffling noises and kept by some seriously outdated frills. This dress is _obnoxiously_ golden. _W_ _hy not? Everything else is golden._

How in the hell did Tommaso and Devon get out of their towers? The edge is windy as hell, and you stand there for at least a minute trying to figure out how to get down (not to mention resisting your body's instinct to windmill your arms wildly in order to beat off whatever forces happen to be frightening you and throwing your adrenaline through the roof). Surely you don't just… jump out? Is it controlled? _Now seems like the best time to try._ _After all, it's only a dream_... 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The shadows of the FURTHEST RING fall upon Tom Mambelli's sleeping form, twisting everlastingly, a chorus of imagined violins somewhere playing, playing themselves into oblivion as the solar wind rushes past, quietly pushing radiation into everyone nearby. Of course, even the Mage doesn’t know it as the FURTHEST RING – just as the empty space outside of his bedroom window. 

Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Tommaso stands up – as much as one can stand in a void of space, with no earthly direction to consider down – and stretches. Now that the sirens on Earth have stopped, he won't be waking soon... But from here, everything is so far away as to be negligible, the stars maligned among meteors and trash and debris so distant that it is indistinguishable from his moon. _Fuck_. 

  


Meanwhile: 

You make a dash for your window, overestimating the friction of these slippers and slipping frantically toward the window. _No no no no nO NO NO NO -_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

What about that gold one? _Maybe if I fly_ backward _along the circumference of the, uh... the... ????_

A voice rings out, and Tom claps himself on the forehead with his palm. _How could I have forgotten?_ The word he's looking for is, of course, _**RING**_. 

  


Meanwhile: 

You fall out of your window. _Nice going, Einstein._ Your arms windmilling, a scream is torn from your throat as the wind ~~whistles as it whirs past, signifying your impending doom~~ stubbornly refuses to whistle cheerily as it whirs past, signifying your impending doom. 

You open one eye that you hadn't noticed closing. 

_Oh_. 

This has to be some kind of dream realm thing. 

  


Meanwhile: 

The voices of the Dark Gods are clearer here, deep and resonant and eternal, reverberating within Tommaso's very soul (if souls are physical enough to vibrate). They need help. They need him. They need his power. Tommaso needs to get back. They strike a deal. 

  


Meanwhile: 

You peer up at your tower, and in turn at the single other across from it. _I mean, if I was in_ that _one..._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Pulled by an inexplicably internal force (like the compass to a place he once called home, to retrieve something he once thought lost – although, from the shivers on his spine, that thing might be as viral a vaccine as the disease it cures), the matter of space and Skaia begins to clear of... _something_ that he hadn't even realized was fogging it before. By the time the planets orbiting Skaia are in focus and in view, that persistant – not static – _nothing –_ is no longer there. 

_So,_ he considers, chewing his lip in thought, _us players have lands._ Carefully, he reviews what the Dark Gods have told him (or, rather, implanted into his being. It's an odd sensation. Kind of like eating a hot dog while vomiting something that tastes like grape jelly, but you're allergic to grapes, and to jelly. All jelly.) It's not much, really. _If I were to hazard a guess, I'd say that_ _they're somewhere around the_ **RING** (the word irreconciliable and immovable) _._ Perhaps the planets surrounding it are missions to complete? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On second thought, you don’t check it out. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Yet, regrettably, he’s gone too far. _Why would they lead me here?_ he does not care to wonder. He has better things to do than to wonder. For instance, he has such intriguing and enlightening things to do as turning back and heading for Derse; it might be worth a visit, but who _knows_ where _Prospit_ is? 

Tom turns back. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Who the fuck are you even kidding? This is bullshit, is what this is. This is bright as fuck, and it's not okay. This isn’t gold. It’s dingy yellow. You don't even like yellow. You're a fan of... blues. Your sunglasses are big. They're round. They're honestly kind of hipster. And guess what? They're blue. You like reds, too. Even purples, from time to time. But... _yellow? No, thanks_. _All things f_ _abulous (that is my simple request) and yellow is_ not _fabulous_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On Dersite ground, Tom pokes the boy on the ground. _Please don't be dead._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You levitate off of the (yellow brick) road, all the while searing it with your distasteful glare to shame it into feeling the mustard stain that it is. How disappointing. You hate mustard. 

Ketchup is much tastier. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The boy on the ground tightens, pulling his limbs further into a fetal position. That's... probably not good. 

  


Meanwhile: 

You are sick and tired of this. No one is here to greet you. No one is here to welcome you. No one is here to even mess with. You are truly alone on this world. 

And you are not a fan of it. 

_This is such bullshit._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Dirk?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You idle your way back to your tower, sniffing disapprovingly, sighing disaffectedly, and making liberal use of your thumbs' ability to twiddle. _Even my fucking teddy is mustard-colored._ _This stupid planet is_ such _a letdown..._

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [4:44PM]

  
  


VP: I dreamt. Fully dreamt. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A mechanical voice echoes through the caverns of Tommaso's mind: 

“MESSAGE ALERT.” 

Faintly, Tom becomes aware of his own dreaming collapse onto Dirk as his waking body is roused. 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [4:46PM]

  
  


SS: your message wok me up

VP: How was your sleep? 

SS: it was ok i saw drik sprald on the pavement

SS: gud news is im getting me sobe

VP: Oh my bad. You should go back to sleep then. 

SS: nono

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Your name is Dirk Quintana, and Tommaso seems to be asleep. 

  
  


SS: tell me about it

  
  


He’s on top of you, actually. 

  
  


VP: It was... eerie. Quiet and lonesome. 

VP: Blinding too. 

SS: did u c the gods

SS: explan it

VP: I did not see the gods. 

  
  


You loosen long enough to fix his position (so that he won’t be as sore when he wakes up), but, ultimately, just go back to laying there. There’s not much else you want to do right now. (You’re definitely not playing with his hair. Nope, nope, nope.)

Your name is Dirk Quintana, and sometimes it feels like you rarely do anything you don’t regret. 

  
  


SS: did u c the void above u

VP: I saw space in its entirety

SS: did u c the werd blue planet in the centr?

VP: I did. 

SS: i think our dream places r on the edge of da game

VP: Mine isn't. Were you able to come to the golden planet? 

SS: no the games 2 big

VP: ...oh...

SS: i thik dat blu planet is were we r

SS: in the wakin world

SS: & the planets arond it is the qests

SS: o ye did u see the planets around the blu thing

VP: No I didn’t have my glasses on

SS: o, ok

SS: im goin exploding

SS: exploring***

VP: Okay then. 

  
  


**sexySlytherin** is now **Offline and doing stuff**!  [4:52PM]

  
  



	7. Efflorescence

Monday, November 9, 2015

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online!** [1:11PM]

  
  


ER: is he gone yet???

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **No longer idle!** [1:11PM]

  
  


VP: Who? 

ER: you know exactly who. 

VP: I don’t think so? I’m really bad at guessing these things. 

ER: devon. 

ER: but im guessing he would have replied by now if he were, so. 

VP: Then you’re good!

VP: Also, what was your dream like? 

  
  


**desolateSlaughterer [DS]** is now **Online!** [1:12PM]

  
  


VP: DS!

DS: Hello. 

ER: why the FUCK did you have to bring him in here???

VP: That was DS. Not me. 

ER: who do you think im talking to??? rory, you should have let him start his own session. 

DS: It was a mistake. 

ER: seriously???

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!** [1:14PM]

  
  


ER: UGH!!!

VP: Oh great. More people. 

EH: excuse me!

ER: why TODAY???

ER: i just wanted to have a GOOD TIME and figure out how to get past this FUCKING SMOKE.

EH: while I’ve been busy doing work you’ve been complaining about me? 

ER: only as much as i can be expected to, devon. 

VP: Should I just go? 

ER: shut up ali, youre the only one here whos remotely okay. 

EH: no please stay!

EH: you’re rather sane

DS: I’m offended. 

EH: Dirk tends to offend people I’ve noticed

ER: oh, yes, im the only one here. 

EH: no there are others

EH: but you’re the main offender

EH: anyway I logged on to ask Ali to build up my house

ER: just do it, then. 

ER: and quit measuring peoples value by their “sanity”. 

EH: why?

EH: sanity is important

DS: Because it’s a stupid fucking system.

ER: ...thank you, rory. 

EH: >.< should we have a psycho in charge then? 

DS: Stop being an ableist fuck. 

EH: language

VP: Could I maybe be in charge? 

EH: well you’re well liked

EH: so possibly

VP: Roughly

ER: yeah, but how often does ali know what to do???

DS: Anyone but Devon. Dirk, I am starting to understand your antipathy towards him. 

ER: shes got faith. 

VP: I do!

EH: I can actually agree with you on that

VP: May I take charge then? Are we in agreement? 

ER: i never said that, ali. 

VP: Oh. 

EH: I mean if I were in charge we’d be getting much more done but at least Ali isn’t crude

ER: optimism isnt best unbridled. 

EH: for instance maybe we should get to not letting Dirk choke to death

EH: and building houses

ER: im flattered by your apparent care for me. 

ER: im sure ill be fine. 

VP: How do I do that? 

EH: you can build my house up from your computer

EH: you can use my grist

VP: Alright give me a moment to figure this out. 

EH: Dirk I don’t care about you

EH: I just care about our collective survival

ER: glad weve got that out of the way. 

ER: speaking of which, has anyone heard from navo???

EH: Rory, I’m prepared to build yours up whenever

EH: I thought she was dead? 

EH: or we assumed she was? 

  
  


Devon shoves back the urge to beat his ceiling with a broom handle as additions to the house's construction rumble through the building, glaring up at what he imagines to be his roof (through multiple layers of brick and insulation). 

  
  


VP: I might have done it? 

EH: Was that you building my house up? 

VP: I think so!

EH: thank you

ER: you cant just say that!!

ER: shes my fucking girlfriend, devon!!

VP: Oh my. 

EH: I’m not psychic

EH: I didn’t know

EH: apparently we have to build our house because of we don’t people will fall to their death

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online!** [1:23PM]

  
  


EH: oh my

ER: navo!! are you okay???

DS: What an interesting development. 

EH: it seems she isn’t as dead as I thought

VP: How unexpected!

CC: yeah feeling the love here everyone

CC: I’m alive, but maybe not for long

EH: get in the game. We have work to do

EH: It seems your server player isn’t online though ):

ER: i cant be your server player, unfortunately. but im sure youll manage. ;)

CC: well damn

DS: Who is her server player meant to be anyway? 

DS: I’ve lost track.

EH: Tommaso

ER: it was going to be me, since were dating and all. 

ER: but i guess its tommaso now. 

CC: looks like I’m fucked, see you people in the afterlife!

EH: try not to think that way!

EH: we need you to live (: 

VP: I just know we’ll all be in the game safe and sound! Don’t worry!

EH: if you die so do we

ER: shut up, devon. shell be fine. 

CC: wait my fate is decided by a drunk? 

EH: I’d be nervous too if he was my server player too

ER: tommasos fine. besides, shes navo. shell figure it out. 

CC: might as well try to pull myself in the game. let’s hack some drunk guys computer, shall we? 

EH: he did seem quite smart on the purple planet... Perhaps I should have some faith

CC: I think we lost Asia

EH: if you need a hacker CC, I’m your guy (;. Dad was a security tech engineer so he taught me a lot

EH: and besides DS, I can see you on my computer (;

DS: The imps are... 

DS: Strange. 

EH: I agree

CC: EH hack into tomassos computer and act like him and pull me into this game

DS: Would I be looked down upon if I said I had not killed a single imp? Would that be odd? 

EH: yes you would

EH: you need grist so I can build up your house

ER: SOMEONES weak. 

EH: not weak. Just timid... I hope

DS: I cannot bring myself to kill them. 

DS: They are nice. 

CC: what even are these imps? 

EH: bad guys

EH: rory, if theyre nice, theyre probably not imps. 

DS: Well, I believe they are. 

EH: I’m in the process of hacking his computer

EH: for being a drunk he has some nice security measures ):

ER: why are you so obsessed with attacking tommaso, devon??? 

ER: is it some sick jealousy???

EH: I gave him a compliment!

ER: yes, preceded by “for a drunk”.

ER: i mean, im just wondering. 

EH: are they pink Komodo dragons? 

DS: No. They are sickly black, mutated dog-like skeletal beings. 

DS: And they are nice. 

EH: oh my

EH: kill one and see if you get grist

DS: No. 

VP: To be technical (and I hate technicalities) he is not a drunk. A drunk is someone who uses alcohol. Which he is not. 

ER: if they are nice, rory, then theyre PROBABLY NOT IMPS. 

EH: he’s not a drunk?

ER: and can you all stop talking about “drunks”? 

EH: does he use illicit drugs? 

CC: okay people I love how we’re all discussing rorys killing habits and tomassos drinking or not drinking habits

CC: but I’m kinda living in the apocalypse here

EH: GIVE ME SOME TIME CC. It isn’t easy stuff here ):

VP: “Killing habits” Have you seen how everyone treats me??

EH: you’re wonderful Ali

DS: They are very nice. Even if they do step on my keyboard sometimes. Sure, they step on my keyboard sometimes. Sure, they tried to kill me in the beginning, but have any of you tried to befriend them? It’s not that hard. 

EH: you need grist

EH: are there any in the house btw? 

DS: Several. 

ER: im gonna try and get past this smoky shit again. 

EH: let me check something

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline and vaguely worried, though about what he couldn’t say.!** [1:44PM]

  
  


CC: and there goes er

  
  


Innocuously, Devon picks up Rory’s dresser (Sburb mechanics lifting the heavy object easily). The cursor meanders its way across the room, and then releases Rory's armoire a foot above one of the dogs. 

  
  


EH: oops!

EH: didn’t mean to do that

DS: Devon. 

DS: What. 

DS: The. 

DS: Fuck. 

EH: but did it drop grist? 

DS: Yes. 

DS: But fuck you. 

EH: CC I’m in

CC: sweet

EH: Launch your client server

DS: Devon I am going to kill you. 

  
  


Devon runs a hand through his perfectly-combed hair, manicured fingernails shiny and clean. "Now..." The download begins, and Devon smiles as Tom's computer runs the server disc. 

  
  


EH: take a number Rory

DS: I hope Dirk doesnt mind too terribly if I help him out a bit with your murder. 

VP: Ooh count me in I like making plans

DS: The rest of the imps are freaking out now! Poor children. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

_Run_ CLIENT.EXE _._

Navo nods, chewing her lip as the loading screen appears. 

  
  


EH: Ok. “Tommaso” is in

EH: I’m deploying the items you need

EH: have fun with those

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon drops the machinery on top of her couch and very much does not wince at the _crack_ of fractured furniture. 

  
  


CC: is one of them food? cause me just ran out

EH: you can make food with one of them

EH: but get in the game first. Ali will explain how

VP: I don’t know what I did to get in the game. 

CC: I need food desperately

CC: im starving

CC: probably

VP: Oh, great. 

EH: well try not to die to die of hunger until you get in the game

EH: you can make food

EH: with the alchemiter

DS: Devon you are a sadistic bastard. 

CC: ds you are a wimp

EH: how will you get grist? 

DS: The imps have been supplying me with Grist. 

DS: They give me gifts. 

DS: They are dogs, they like to dig things up. 

EH: do you have a good amount? 

DS: Yes. 

EH: then I suppose it works out

CC: its not working out for me!

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Offline and probably dying**!  [1:48PM]

  
  


EH: oh goodness

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo looks down at the mess of splinters that was once her couch and begins messing with the machines on top of it. 

  
  


EH: I thought I tasked Ali with telling her what to do

VP: I said I forgot!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

With a click on one side of the chain and a crash on the other, a desk propelled by Tommaso's server smashes against the Cruxtruder's protruding top, deploying Navo's kernelsprite. 

  
  


DS: I can’t believe you would slaughter an innocent creature, Devon. 

EH: already!?

DS: For shame. 

EH: I had to check

EH: for your safety of course

DS: You fucker. 

EH: language

DS: So, I suppose I should just kill you, Devon? See if you drop any grist? 

EH: I mean... if you can

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo fiddles with the machines. 

  
  


EH: if you do kill me, can it at least wait until everything I need to do is completed

EH: no need for everyone to die because of somebody’s temper (;

DS: You’re such a fucking asshole. 

EH: facts

  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Idle!** [1:53PM]

  
  


Then she drums them. 

  


DS: You killed Dogathan Barker the Seventh. 

DS: And now his family are in mourning. 

EH: what a royal name

EH: I shall give him a proper burial

  


She tries scowling and harping on them and apparently she's done something right, because something appears on the dais. 

  
  


EH: how about we put some grist under a blanket and call it a day? 

DS: I’m going to kill you. 

DS: I will avenge him. 

EH: whatever you say

DS: Do you have no empathy? I thought I was supposed to be the one with no empathy. 

EH: I would have if it was a person or even an animal

DS: It is an animal. 

EH: it’s computer code

DS: It was a living, breathing animal. 

DS: It had a name. 

  
  


Navo tears the Hearts' Queen in two, and she begins to play. 

Fuck. 

Yes. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic** **[** **EH** **]** is now **Offline**!  [1:58PM]

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online and not** **dying**!  [1:59PM]

  
  


CC: okay so I’m in

DS: Do you agree that Devon is heartless and evil? Yes/No

CC: sometimes

DS: He killed a dog. 

CC: so did my guide

DS: What the fuck. 

DS: Why is everyone here dog-murderers. 

DS: I feel personally offended. 

CC: i put in my copy of 101 Dalmations

DS: Shouldn’t your Guide be 101 dalmations then? 

CC: its cruela de vile

DS: Why. 

CC: i don’t know, but on the cover there was cruela soooo

CC: im also pretty sure the game wouldn’t let 101 dog be my guide

DS: It should. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [2:01PM]

  
  


**distantSlaughterer [DS]** has changed their chumhandle to **devonisalittleShit** **[DS]**!  [2:02PM]

  
  


VP: I have a slight problem that frankly anyone can help with. Anyone have any idea what the relevance of the dream places are? 

DS: No idea. 

VP: Fantastic. Is it okay to be afraid to go to sleep? 

DS: I haven’t slept since I entered. 

VP: By choice or by preoccupation? 

DS: I haven’t been able. I have too much on my plate right now. 

VP: Preoccupation then. 

DS: Yes. Although some of the imps seem to be making rather a fuss of it... Do you approve of my new chumhandle? I thought it was fitting. 

VP: I see you two aren’t getting along? 

DS: He killed my dog. 

VP: Devon is rather... irritable to everyone. Except for me. He hasn’t done anything to me yet. 

DS: It was in cold blood as well. 

VP: I hate to say this but devon was justified. 

DS: Why?!

DS: My dogs are innocent. 

VP: They try to kill you

DS: They playfight a bit but... 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online**!  [2:05PM]

  
  


VP: Hello

DS: Oh shit, prepare for trouble. 

VP: What kind of trouble

VP: Do you need help

EH: hello

EH: and DS

EH: your name is a pathetic excuse for an insult

DS: It was the best I could do whilst retaining my acronym. 

EH: clearly your best isn’t very good

VP: Devon. 

EH: Ali ^_^

VP: Back off. 

EH: he started it >.<

VP: DS doesn’t need shit today. Don’t give it to him. And don’t fucking retaliate. (Language)

EH: a fair deal

  
  


**devonisalittleShit [DS]** has changed their chumhandle to **devonisafuckingpieceofgoddamntrashandShouldbeburninginthepitsoffuckinghell [DS]**!  [2:06PM]

  
  


EH: oh goodness

EH: your whole vocabulary is in there

VP: Devon. 

EH: I didn’t start it

EH: but I will finish it

VP: I remember saying not to retaliate. 

EH: the roll of the dice is not in your favor Rory

VP: I’m finishing this. 

EH: tell him to change his name back!!!

VP: DS. Please. 

DS: No. 

DS: I will not stand for this. 

EH: shall I kill another imp then? 

DS: If you do I will rip you limb for limb and put you through a meatgrinder. 

EH: but how

  
  


**devonisafuckingpieceofgoddamntrashandShouldbeburninginthepitsoffuckinghell [DS]** has changed their chumhandle to **dontyoufuckingdaretouchmydogsdevonoriwillSetyouonfire [DS]**!  [2:08PM]

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** has changed their chumhandle to **veryconfusedPersonwhowouldliketostayoutofthis [VP]**!  [2:09PM]

  
  


VP: : )

EH: that name is better

DS: Devon, I hate you with every shred of my cold, battered heart. 

EH: that was a pretty sentence for such an ugly personality

VP: Please stop. 

EH: fine

EH: I will

EH: when they stop

DS: Why do you have to be such an insufferable asshole? Is it genetic or something? 

EH: well if you look at it from the view of enlightenment thinkers like John Locke, no, but

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Disconnected** **!** [2:10PM]

  
  


DS: Heh. 

DS: In other news, my land is boring as fuck

  
  


**dontyoufuckingdaretouchmydogsdevoniwillSetyouonfire [DS]** is now **Idle!** [2:15PM]

  
  


**veryconfusedPersonwhowouldliketostayoutofthis [VP]** has changed their chumhandle to **vividParadox [VP]!** [2:16PM]

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [4:04PM]

  
  


VP: Oh hi SS!

SS: good morning or night or w/e

VP: It seems to be night here. It looks like the sun will be rising soon though

SS: my guide is calling me a mage, do u think that’s important

VP: Perhaps? I mean, it’s your guide

SS: oh shit can I do magic shit

VP: ???

SS: like mages do magic right? 

VP: Sure

SS: so maybe I can do magic

SS: that would be BADASS

SS: so whats up on ur land? 

VP: I killed every imp that entered my house. 

SS: -thumb up-

SS: same

SS: someone hacked my computer

SS: this is graceless

SS: they just deconstructed the firewall instead of even trying to use subterfuge

SS: im assuming devon?

VP: Correct

  
  


**entropicRelativity** is now **Online!** [4:06PM]

  
  


ER: there are strange noises coming from outside. 

ER: WHY is it always NIGHT here???

SS: hi dirk

ER: hey tom. 

SS: so y did devon hack my computer

ER: because hes a whore. 

SS: I wont argue w/ that

SS: im going to give him a chance at redemtion tho

SS: still want to know y he hacked me

ER: something about navo i think???

ER: i wasnt paying too much attention. 

ER: still trying to LEAVE MY FUCKING HOUSE.

SS: ill find ur plac asap and help

SS: ali, any ideas? 

SS: ali? 

SS: ali

SS: ali whatever-your-last-name-is

VP: Bradford. 

SS: so do U know y dev hacked me

SS: elaborte

SS: elaborate*

SS: ...

SS: nvm ill just explore then

ER: ali???

ER: are you alive???

SS: ali r u ok

VP: Sorry

VP: What’s up? 

SS: y did dev hack me

VP: to help your client 

ER: yeah, it was navo i think. 

ER: what a gal. 

ER: so uh, theres unnatural shrieks coming from the outside of my home. 

SS: oh ok, I guess devon made me navo's server

SS: o shit

ER: i think its my guide. 

ER: i thought hed left, but hes back. 

ER: and theres jellyfish trying to kill me. 

SS: ???

SS: im coming over

ER: if someone could think something up quick riddling them with bullets isnt working. 

ER: FUCK

ER: those shits HURT!!

SS: bb no

SS: let me ask the demons above derse how to get 2 u

ER: hurry up

ER: i gotta go

SS: k good night

ER: away from the computer, not to sleep!! im being ATTACKED. 

ER: FUCK

VP: IS THERE ANYWAY I CAN HELP? 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Inactive and asleep**!  [4:16PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Your name is Tommaso Mambelli, and you are on top of Dirk. 

You climb off, trying not to think about the mental images this is producing. You'd honestly forgotten where you last fell asleep. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Disconnected!** [4:16PM]

  
  


VP: Oh shit.

  
  


Your pleas for knowledge are answered by the Dark Gods, but you are not satisfied with this answer. The gates above your house, the ones made of many **RING** s, are too tedious to travel and be convenient; you will not leave Dirk that long. 

"The planets," says the Dersite whose uniform you're holding in an iron grip, its voice trembling. "The Prince's land is one of those planets. A place of burning fragments, a - " He might have been about to tell you more, but you wouldn't know, since you've already let him go and awoken. Somehow, internally, it seems obvious that your dreaming abilities can't be relied upon if you are to fly so far from the **FURTHEST RING** , to venture toward the planets nearing the center of the gamespace. Just considering trying to fly that close to Prospit gives you shivers and an urge to vomit and cleanse yourself of such blasphemous thoughts. 

You go to sleep. 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [4:18PM]

  
  


SS: anyone know the code for a flying device? 

VP: No sorry

SS: ugh time to google wallthrough shit

SS: shit google is down

SS: probably because apocalypse and all that shit

VP: Yeah that seems likely

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Inactive and Alchemiting stuff**!  [4:19PM]

  
  


What the fuck do you _have_ to make a jetpack out of? You have a backpack, but it’s not like you’re got _engines_. Maybe if you alchemite the pack with...  Well, there's a dead bird on the windowsill – that happens often, must have been teleported with your house... 

A purse of rotting bird leather appears before you. 

Ew. 

Doing it the other way (&& instead of ||) makes a shitty pair of wings, but it will serve your purpose for now. Staring up at the gates of your planet, you sigh and shoot off toward Skaia, and the voices of the Dark Gods in the FURTHEST RING sound a little weaker. _A place of burning fragments_... Before you circle six planets. One is multicolored and heavily wooded; one is cracked and wasted; one (yours) is dark and reticent. One is oceanic and gray; one is shiny and reflective; one is as obscured as yours is, though by heavy smoke rather than your cool night. _Burning..._ The descent into Dirk's planet (there must be some kind of major atmosphere around the entire gamespace, since you can breathe fine even off-planet – but then how does gravity work?) deposits you in a field of smoke, which parts invitingly, and as you glide downward, Dirk's house fades into view. It's a small place – two levels, but compact ones with maybe two rooms per floor. There are bars on the windows... 

You  push open the front door, and a growing sense of worry. “Dirk?” 

“ITALY!” comes a shriek from the direction of vaguely upstairs and to your left. “Where the FUCK are you?” 

Pink jellyfish inhabit the space around you. To your left appears to be a living room. To the right is the kitchen. Directly in front of you is an upward-bound staircase. 

  
  


Select a key to choose!

  
  


Living room!Kitchen! Upstairs!

A B C

  
  


You leap up the stairs, taking them by 2.

“I’m upstairs!” 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Idle**!  [4:23PM]

  
  


“HELP ME!” comes the cry from your left. His voice is higher than you thought it’d be, but that might just be the swarm of jellyfish attacking him. A deep, rumbling laugh sounds through the house; you can see it literally shaking the railing of the staircase. 

Dirk stumbles from the cloud of jellyfish. He’s covered in cuts, crisscrossing each other in every conceivable pattern across his body. 

Run away! Help Dirk! Get their attention!

AB C

  
  


You whistle to get the jellyfishes’ attention. 

Behind him is what appears to be a discarded submachine gun. Surprise, surprise, he tried to shoot a bunch of jellyfish to death. 

You take your strife card – captchalogue it – memorize the code, take it. It's not difficult to remember. You take a lamp, show it to the jellyfish, and throw it out the window. 

“That was my good lamp,” slurs Dirk. They do chase after the light, though, rather than continuing to attack him. He spits out a bit of blood. “One of them got its tentacles in my mouth, I think.” 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!** [4:27PM]

  
  


EH: the imps are getting even more annoying

EH: and violent

EH: and strong

  
  


You wink, glorying in potential innuendo. “Throw me that gun behind you.” 

  
  


EH: I’m going to need to make some stronger dice

EH: if anyone has some tups for Alchemiting pm me. Off I go. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Offline!** [4:28PM]

  
  


Dirk grins, picking it up, and tosses the gun at you. “Careful. Safety’s off.” 

You allocate it to your strife specibus. (You’ll probably make a new strife card and allocate it to a more appropriate weapon later.) Nervously, Dirk shrinks away from the lessening cloud of jellyfish now focusing their attention half on the lamp outside and half on you, removing his torn shirt with as little movement as possible. You are just a little bit distracted by Dirk removing his shirt, but focus as best you can on distracting the jellyfish as much as humanly possible. This includes shooting, throwing valuable objects, and being a huge nuisance to hit. 

“Captus Princeps Sanguinis curret,” calls a deep voice, again shaking the house from somewhere above it. Behind you, the ceiling above the staircase collapses, and you get an eyeful of some kind of tentacled beast with the head of a goat. Surrounding it is glyphs of all sorts. You think you see a black sun in there, but most of them you don’t recognize. 

“What the FUCK?!” screams Dirk. The tentacle beast appears to take no notice. 

“Uhhhh, hi, Satan!” You shoot him a lot. You doubt you’re getting anywhere with this. 

“Yes,” moans Dirk. “Guides are _very_ susceptible to bullets.” 

“ Shut _up,_ Dirk.” You turn to hisguide. “Look, I don’t mean any harm. You’re part of the game, right? You’re supposed to be on our side!” 

“Tu ego immineo facile. Tu estis infirmus.” _You are weak._

“ Ita vero,” you say. “Adiuva nos!”  _ Indeed. Help us! _

“Et mihi bonus?” _And my reward?_

You offer your guide medallion. 

“ Fututio,” Dirk mutters as you hold out the medallion. Roughly translated, you’re pretty sure this means something like ‘Fucking’. Is he offering sex as payment? 

“Lascivus,” the beast comments wrly. _Wanton_ , you translate in your head. _Lustful, lascivious, licentious_. _Playful_. “Es sufficiens.  Dux, no fututio.” _It’s sufficient. The_ _leader_ (one who takes others, one who guides), you add in your head _, not fucking._

“ Well, damn,” says Dirk, still in Latin. “I was so ready to get my sexy on with a tentacled beast.” 

“Wait,” you say, “but will I still have my guide to assist me when I need it?” Mistakes may have been made. 

“Mambelli,” the beast says warningly, and you get the strong impression of a ridgeback, its hackles raised. “The... _guide_ for the boy. Is this not the deal?” 

You wait. 

The beast sighs. “And perhaps I will assist you, if necessary.” 

“ Deal.” 

"You will not be able to call on me, Mambelli. I will assist you when you need me to."

“Chill,” mutters Dirk, slumping down against the wall and hissing in pain. 

“Not what I wanted in the first place,” you say, “but I guess it’s better than offering my guide for _sex_.” 

“ Alright, then,” says the tentacled beast, and the amulet floats from the younger Mambelli’s hand, dissolving into Void as it enters the vicinity of the tentacled beast. 

The jellyfish disperse. 

You look over at Dirk and switch back to English. “Hey.” 

“I am… severely cut,” he mumbles, the _t_ over-enunciated. Parts of his hair are out. “It’s like they have knives for tentacles.” 

“Do you have a first aid kit?” You start out of the room, looking around the house. 

“I’m sure there’s one about somewhere,” he says, getting to his feet. “It’s not like I need one, though. I’m not really bleeding that much.” 

You glance back at him. The shirt, discarded to the side, is almost soaked with his blood. Not all of the cuts are so bad - most are minor - but three or four look _really_ deep. He’s having trouble walking, leaning against the doorframe. “Hush,” you say, trying to keep the worry out of your voice, “you look pretty beaten up to me!” 

“ No, I’m fine.” 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **No longer idle!** [4:39PM]

  
  


VP: Anyone have any idea when Tommaso’s gonna be back I need the code for his flying thing

  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!** [4:41PM]

  
  


EH: don’t be lazy >.< just build up your house

VP: My server player is never here

  
  


You find an elderly desktop in the hallway outside of his room. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online!** [4:41PM]

  
  


EH: true

EH: speaking of that

EH: could you build my house up some

VP: Dirk!

ER: you need my code? 

EH: oh... It’s you

ER: whoops wait

VP: I need tom’s code

EH: no genius

ER: hes on my computer. 

EH: we need tom’s

ER: and im on my phone. 

VP: Oh. 

EH: oh great

ER: sorry I’m at dirk’s house

ER: this could get confusing. 

EH: my two favorite people

VP: How’d you get to Dirk’s?

ER: ill capitalize my words

EH: how about Tomasso logs into his own pesterchum

EH: is he too high to do that

ER: ALI IM TOM

ER: I LIKE THIS SYSTEM. 

VP: Kill me

ER: DIRK WTF NO

ER: AND DEVON SHUT THE FUCK UP. 

ER: PRETTY MUCH, YEAH. 

ER: DIRK U CANT CAPTALIZE UR SHIT 2

ER: YES I CAN. 

VP: I can tell who’s Tom by typing styles just continue

EH: sigh

ER: Ill Stay Like This

VP: Alright Dirk back to the topic at hand

VP: I need the code

ER: I GOT WINGS

VP: That is adequate

VP: It’ll work

ER: PCHOOOOO!!

ER: Off Goes Tom Into The Void

VP: ??

ER: IT’S FLAPPY!!

EH: cool

EH: code

VP: Just send the fucking code

EH: please

EH: on the same page it seems Ali

ER: NO U IDIOTS

ER: I Think He Means The Code Is “FLAPPY!!”

EH: oh lord

VP: Oh. 

ER: THE CODE: FLAPPY!!.

VP: Alrigty. 

EH: coolio

ER: Like The Hit New IPhone App

ER: Flappy Bird The Movie

ER: Coming To Theaters Near You This Apocalypse

ER: YES

EH: I will be seeing you soon Ali

EH: I think

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Alchemiting**!  [4:44PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali spins from her computer, office chair bouncing, and approaches the Alchemiter. 

  
  


ER: SEE U GUYS IM FINDING DIRK A FIRST AID KIT

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Considering The Implications Of Fucking The Tentacle Beast!** [4:45PM]

  
  


What the fuck is _this_ machine anyway? More importantly, who cares? 

You press a random button. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon does a bunch of boring shit, which includes punching F-L-A-P-P-Y-!-! into an Alchemiter heavy with functional upgrades and a keyboard made out of solid gold. It isn’t cheap, but all his grist-grinding has left him in a pretty good place, grist-wise, and he can easily afford it. 

  
  


ER: Bruh I Dont Need A First Aid Kit

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Disconnected!** [4:45PM]

  
  


ER: At Least, His Desktop Is

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Trying To Convince sexySlytherin [SS] That He** **(ER)** **Is In No Need Of A First Aid Kit!** [4:45PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In circumstantially and temporally simultaneous conditions, Ali also does a bunch of boring shit, although she does it with admittedly more difficulty and grist, having no Alchemitous upgrades. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Get me a _bath_ of rubbing alcohol and I’ll be fine,” Dirk calls to you from his bedroom. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

After some serious trial and error that involves a bag of popcorn, a towel soaked in something that is _not water_ , and Hillary Clinton, Ali’s Alchemiter finally spits out a pair of wings. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **No longer Alchemiting**!  [4:47PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

As the swirling orange gate envelops him completely, Devon sees Mr. Card smiling up from below, waving, the last thing to go as the gate swallows him whole his guide's cheeky grin. 

  
  


VP: I made the wings. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You wander into the bathroom and find some bandages and rubbing alcohol. 

Haha. 

_I don't know how to do this._

  
  


VP: I’m off then. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

_Goodness_. Blinking, Devon peers around the, um, shockingly _mirroric_ (is there an adjective for mirror?) land, trying not to be blinded by his own awesomeness. 

_A house!_ And whose could it be? Not bothering to walk, Devon's mechanical wings squeal as he flaps over to the house and knocks on the door. “Hello?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You pick up the bandages and alcohol anyway. “Dirk, guess who has no idea how to do this?” You also grab a towel and some cotton balls, Neosporin. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“WHO THE FUCK?” Ali shouts. 

“Language,” Devon replies. 

“Oh, Devon!” Her heavy pants bely how out of breath she is as the front door opens, and Devon waves invitingly. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“I’m sure I’ve got some anti-pain creams in there,” Dirk says, pushing past you and examining the medicines cabinet. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Are you Ali?”

Devon is in the most douchey-looking outfit Ali has ever seen. It appears to be some kind of formal golfing wear. _I didn't know people had formal golfing wear._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Alright big shot,” you say, “why don’t _you_ do this?” 

“Because,” Dirk says, smirking, “I’d rather have you feeling me up than do it myself.” With that, he slaps a tub of some kind of painkilling cream on the counter, then retreats to the bathub, running water over a washrag and trying to clean his cuts with it. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Of course!” Devon says. “How are you doing, madam?” He’s not much taller than Ali is, standing at 5’6”. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Well, damn. But also… _damn._

Remaining totally undistracted by Dirk’s antics, you examine the painkiller he’s pulled out. It’s _just_ painkiller. It doesn’t do anything else; it _definitely_ doesn’t prevent infection. 

“This _isn’t_ an antibiotic,” you inform him as you make your way to the bathtub. You catch a glimpse of scars on his arms and suddenly theres a pit of hot lead in your stomach. You grab an arm even as he hisses in pain from your contact, and hold it up to examine the scars and cuts further. This scar tissue is... _abnormally_ thick… _Yes_ , you confirm, _much_ _too thick_. You  metaphorically can’t believe he can even move these arms. “This is why those scars are there,” you say softly. “Do you understand that? You can’t _just_ use this, this is why these injuries got infected…” 

He averts his gaze. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Don’t act like a fucking king,” Ali says, “you don’t have to try to impress me.” She gestures inside. “Make yourself at home, fucktruck. Yeah, I know, language.” She’s cursing more than her chatspeak has led Devon to believe, to his disappointment. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk pulls his arm from you abruptly (though gently, not jerking) and towels himself dry of the water, glancing at you once in a while, though only when he seems to think you’re not looking. He’s thin.

Too, too thin. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“My,” Devon sighs, stepping into the house. “So, how’s the game treating you? You’re not dead yet, so that’s good.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You pick up some rubbing alcohol, dousing the cotton balls with it, and start applying it to some of the bigger cuts. You’re still a little distracted by his… body… and with the apparent quality of his _care_ for it. 

Dirk draws breath, tensing his shoulders. “Stop it,” he hisses, batting your hand away - but still not looking you in the eyes. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“I’m pretty good, yeah.” Ali ventures deeper into the house. It's got the oddest architecture you're ever seen, and it's _large_ , almost as large as Devon's. _Of course, I haven't seen anyone else's homes yet... I certainly hope they're not all this big. I need to keep_ some _semblance of class._ “I’m assuming a gentleman like yourself goes for tea?” 

“Tea? You have tea?! Oh, thank goodness! My house is... lacking. I’d love some tea!” Devon announces eagerly, then frowns and tosses his dice at an imp charging from the door.  “Interrupting is rude,” he says, sniffing, and a chess set's knight strikes down the glass foe. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Oh, shut up, you giant crybaby.” You retrievehis Ace bandages from your Sylladex. “It’s going to hurt much more if I _don’t_ do that.” Your eyes flick to the over-large scars, then  back to the more... _pressing_ matters.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Oh, _fuck_ , man! Firing arrows takes so much _time.._.” Ali leads you into a kitchen  (which, improbably, must be gotten to by going through the water closet), and grabs up a measuring cup that's already been set out. “How much tea d'you want? Basic mug? Upgraded mug? _Double_ mug? Super venti grande? ” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Fine,” Dirk mutters, letting his body relax somewhat and, if you’re not mistaken… _maybe_ leaning into your hands? His eyes close in, uh, _pain_ when you apply the next bandage. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Yes please! Thank you. So… " _May as well get to the point_.  "Do you think that Dirk and Rory are actually going to try and kill me?” 

She pours about 2 cups of water into his mug and places it into the microwave. “Without a doubt.” 

“So then… Should I try and kill them first?” 

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online and confused as fuck**!  [5:17PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You carefully apply alcohol, antibiotics, and bandages to more cuts, wincing every time Dirk sounds like he’s in pain. By the time you're done, his forearms are covered in your wrapping... 

  
  


CC: is anyone else online orrrrr

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Resistance is futile,” Ali says mockingly, rolling her eyes. 

“I mean, I could crush Rory with her own dresser… but that would make a big bloody mess.” 

Ali shoots him a glare. " _His_ own dresser, Devon." 

"Right, sorry. Only just saw him for the first time, y'know, so..." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Thanks, love,” Dirk whispers, his eyelids leaden and half-closed. He’s still not looking at you.

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Offline and probably going to die**! [5:17PM]

  
  


“Hey, do you want painkillers or something?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali shakes her head. "Just don't forget again, okay? Anyway, I – I mean, I was joking about the murder thing, could we talk about this another ti -” The microwave lets out an ear-shredding shriek (and out of the corner of her vision, she watches Devon slap his hands over his ears). 

“Maybe give a guy a warning next time.” 

Is Ali imagining it, or... _I_ _s there real venom in his voice?_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo stands from her computer chair, stretching. “Fuck it. I’m making a plane.” She gets to work, even though she has no clue how to fly one. Thank god she has a model to work off of. 

Alchemy is great, isn’t it? Navo just kinda… enlarges her (entirely functional) model plane. She hops in. Time to find her friends!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk shakes his head. “I’ll be fine.” He turns to face you, his brows furrowed, looking almost confused, but then tears his eyes from yours. “Thanks.” His exit from his own bathroom is… stiff, in a word. 

You feel awkward now. _Guess I should follow him out..._

_Idea!_ “Where do you keep your Alchemiter?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ Sorry, I forgot,” she says unnecessarily. Ali carefully removes the mugfrom the microwave, a drop or two of heated water splashing out of it and onto her hand. She cringes, places the cup on the counter to prevent further spillage. “Earl grey or green tea?” she mutters around her hand, sucking her thumb in an effort to alleviate the burn. 

“Are you alright, Miss Ali? You might want to run that hand under cold water. A gentleman should never let a lady hurt herself like that. My apologies. I can make the tea if you show me where the actual tea is.” 

“I’m fine, Devon. This happens all the time. It’s a whole affair when you’re slightly too short for everything. I’ll ask again what kind of tea you want?” 

“Um… Alright. I’ll have grey, thank you. Can I help in any way?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Flying a plane is not easy. Not easy at all. Luckily, these planets are really rather close. 

_Ooh, look at that one. It's_ shiny. But that obscured one, gray and cloudy... It reminds her of the storms on her planet. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“It’s in the living room,” Dirk says. He appears to have retreated to his bedroom, his back to you. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Just pick a mug,” Ali says, gesturing to a cabinet with her family’s extensive collection. 

Naturally, Devon selects the fanciest. “May I use this one?” 

“Sure thing, your _Majesty_.” Ali pours him water and provides a tea bag.

  
  


Meanwhile:

You piddle around the house, the knot in your gut growing worse as you check your phone for the lists of codes you've deciphered in your trial alchemiting, as you alchemite another strife card and two packets of expensive baking cocoa, as you stir them into hot milk, add sugar, and bring a mug up for Dirk. 

“Thank you,” Dirk says, looking you cautiously in the eyes as he takes the mug. Whatever apprehension he’s had earlier, he seems to have gotten over it. _What is he doing?_

  


Meanwhile:

Oh look! A house in the smoke! Whose house? Who knows? Who _cares?_ Navo needs some human interaction, damn it. Everyone's offline. 

  


Meanwhile:

He takes a sip. You take a sip. “So how’s your quest going?”

Dirk frowns. “I assume it’s the figure out how to get past the smoke, but I haven’t figured out much of that yet... Any, really. How’d you get down here?”

“I just... went through the fog,” you say slowly. It’s not like the smoke stopped you. _It’s just smoke_. “I’m sure I can help you.” You slide a little closer to him, both of you leaning against the bed, and tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. In the back of your mind, you are aware that he normally keeps it shorter than this; he must have fast-growing hair for it to be so noticeable already in the gamespace. 

  


Meanwhile:

Ali hands Devon his mug. “Go nuts.” She, meanwhile, opens a Coke.

“Thank you,” he says, taking it gratefully and gracefully. “You remind me of a maid we once had... Too bad she died.”

“What a fucking compliment.” She says this in a monotone.

Devon supresses the urge to snicker. _It's fun to screw with people who've never been to a tea party. I bet she thinks this is what_ all _aristocrats_ _talk about_. 

  


Meanwhile:

“Do you know how you did it?” Dirk says, looking through the bedroom doorway to the hole in the ceiling above his stairs. “I feel like it’s just choking me every time I go outside.”

  


Meanwhile:

Navo lands the plane, but keeps the light on to see if maybe she can see through the smoke a bit. It doesn’t help much, but she can at least see the house. Coughing, she approaches the door, doing her best to use her shirt as an improvised gasmask. It doesn't help. 

  


Meanwhile:

“I mean that in a nice way!” Devon defends. “She was a nice and, overall, caring lady. Anyway, what’s your strife specibus?”

“Arrowkind,” she says, gulping her Coke. “Bows and arrows.” What a lady.

“Interesting...” he says, eyeing Ali’s empty can with some apprehension, eyebrow raised. He sips slowly at his own tea and favors her with a personable smile. “I technically have bladekind, but I combined a sword with some dice, and it seems to have worked out."

  


Meanwhile:

“Well, maybe it’s because you don’t want the fog to be there.”

“I can’t just make myself want something else...” Dirk protests. “If that even is the real problem.” His hand finds yours. He’s holding it really tight; his hand is trembling.

You look into his eyes. “Maybe you can’t see it as an obstacle. Maybe you need to let it into your life...” You take a shuddering breath. “And damn the consequences.”

Without warning, Dirk pushes forward and kisses you.

You don’t pull away.

  


Meanwhile:

“Odd,” says Ali. “But cool.” She burps. “Fuck, my bad.”

  


Meanwhile:

Dirk wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer. Needy moans come from his throat, and somehow your hand has found his hair, stroking it – you grip his damaged body, pull it closer to you –

  


Meanwhile:

“Um,” says Devon. A brief pause. “You are quite an interesting lady, Ali.”

  


Meanwhile:

Navo wrenches the goddamn door open. “Is anyone here? We talked about this." Climbing the stairs, "I’m not...” She steps onto the second floor, turns left, and sees her d8m8 kissing a drug user. "Dead.”

Dirk breaks away from Tom, scrambling, and falls to the floor with a dull thud. “I – he – I – ”

You pull away and manage to fall, heels over head, behind the bed, slipping into the space between bed and wall with a meaty slap as your arm smacks against the wall, covering your expression as best you can. You stare up at the ceiling, listen to this conversation and considering and reconsidering your life choices.

  


Meanwhile:

“Same to you,” Ali reciprocates, gesturing to the next room (the one past the bathroom with no sink that inexplicably leads to a kitchen). “Wanna watch a movie? Cable may be down, but that doesn’t mean those prehistoric _VHS tapes_ aren’t working.”

  


Meanwhile:

Navo.

Is.

Mad.

“Or maybe I am, to you.” She crosses her arms.

“Now,” Dirk says, “I think if we all calm down we can reach an agreement which will be mutually beneficial to all of us.”

You reconfigure and stand from behind the bed. “Hi, Navo...?”

“Yes,” she says. “Navo. You know, Dirk’s...” She looks at him. “ _Ex_.” 

Meanwhile:

“I’m not much of a movie person. I’m more of a, uh... how-about-we-go-out-and-kill-imps-together kind of person! Combo moves? Combo moves,” Devon says decisively, finishing his tea faster than is polite and slamming the mug to the kitchen counter in punctuation. He grabs his dice.

“Alright, I’m cool with that.” Ali says, following him through the restroom and into the living room. “Let me just run upstairs and grab my weapon.” She leaps upstairs. 

Perhaps Devon will have some time to look around.

He looks around.

  


Meanwhile:

“Well,” Dirk says, a pained smile on his face, “I don’t think that we _have_ to break up...” His palms are up, pleading. “Polyamory?”

You’re rather confused at the moment. _Dirk and Navo are dating?_

You were probably too high at the time to notice.

“Oh, fuck, no,” Navo says. “I disappear for a few game-days or whatever and you just _move on_.”

On the other side of the bedroom, Dirk is eyeing the window, barely suppressing the urge to defenestrate himself.

“I’m sorry, Navo,” you say. “I didn’t know you and Dirk, uh...” You shoot a pleading glance at Dirk.

“Um,” he takes over, stepping forward, “I guess you should beat me up, or something?”

  


Meanwhile:

“Give me a sec! I can’t find it!” Ali screams down from the upstairs, almost inaudible. Devon gives her a sec. She appears in the doorway after another ten seconds with a bright pink compound bow. 

“Pretty,” Devon comments. “Killing with class. I love it.”

“What a nice, genuine compliment, Devon. First one all day.”

  


Meanwhile:

“Navo,” you say, “look, it’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

She looks at Dirk for a second.

It feels

like

forever.

She pulls out her scythe.

“Nevermind,” you say. “It was his idea.”

“Tommaso,” Dirk says, his voice an octave higher than it was, “do you still have my gun?” One hand is shaking. Just one.

You hand it to him, over the bed.

“Thanks,” Dirk says. His eyes are wide, but his expression is static.

“You won’t hurt me,” Navo sneers. “I know you won’t.” 

Dirk raises his gun to point at Nep. His hand is still shaking.

  


Meanwhile:

“I try,” Devon says. “Anyway. Let’s find one of those big ogres! One almost killed me, but with two people, I have _no doubt_ we can beat it.” He steps out of the house, holding the door open for Ali. 

  


Meanwhile:

“Shoot. I dare you.” She smiles, her scythe at her side.

“G – Guys? Can we not do this?”

“Help me,” Dirk whispers to you. It’s not that he doesn’t want Navo to hear, but he can’t seem to speak any louder.

  


Meanwhile:

“Woah,” Ali says. “Ogres? They get bigger?”

“Yes, unfortunately. They are quite resilient, even to the death."

“Well, fuck.” She looks a little scared, now.

  


Meanwhile:

“Listen,” you say. “The d – the gods above Derse – they told me that if anyone dies, then everyone is doomed to die! So... So let’s not kill anyone now,” you finish lamely.

“What are you waiting for, dear?” Navo queries, ignoring you entirely.

  


Meanwhile:

“But we can do it!” Devon insists. “Perhaps your guide will be of assistance.”

  


Meanwhile:

“Seriously,” you reaffirm. “At least not until the loop is closed.”

Dirk moves the gun downward.

And pressures.

The trigger.

  
  



	8. Carillons

Monday, November 9, 2015: Part Two

A spray of bullets is released, in numerous directions.

  


Meanwhile:

“ My  guide doesn’t do  _ anything _ ,” Ali complains. “Doesn’t  _ talk _ . Just walks around with  some kinda weird guide theme music playing behind them.  Oh,  and steals my shiny things.”

  


Meanwhile:

Navo moans and drops to a knee, the pole of her scythe cracking against her head as it falls. A pool of blood begins to leak from her wounds... 

“DIRK!” you shriek. “WHAT THE FUCK?!” You dive back beneath the cover of his bed.

“Please,” Dirk gasps, “Navo, you’re scaring me!”

  


Meanwhile:

“That’s a bummer. Mr. Card is very helpful! He tells me stuff and bites imps... And shoots lasers at them, too. He’s pretty cool!”

“Devon, I’m a little scared,” Ali says, her mind obviously on a completely different subject.

Devon looks at her, surprised, but she's not paying any attention to where he is. He grabs her hand, smiling, and that gets her attention – and this time it looks sincere. “Come on, Ali! You have a gentleman to watch your back, and a gentleman doesn’t let a lady get hurt. Besides, with your bow skills and my luck, we’re _unbeatable_.”

  


Meanwhile:

Navo screams, and Dirk does too: a brief and crackly noise – his voice doesn’t even  _ go _ high enough to hit the note it’s trying to.

You curl up beneath his bed in the fetal position. _Please, just let this go away._

  


Meanwhile:

“I don’t know,” Ali says skeptically.

“My goodness,” Devon reprimands her. “You don’t trust me?” He studies her for a moment. “Fine. Let me show you some of my skill and I’ll let you decide for yourself if you’re safe with me. Fair enough?”

  


Meanwhile:

“I – ” In a split second, Dirk dashes down the stairs, leaping over Navo’s crumpled form.

You finally get out from under the bed.

  


Meanwhile:

“Yeah, I guess that sounds fair...”

  


Meanwhile:

“Oh my god, Navo,” you say in disbelief, your voice distant, your heartbeat pounding. “Are you okay?”

“Tom!” she gasps, scrabbling, reaching for your grasp. “Help!” She’s not mad anymore. _She’s scared._ _She's just a scared girl.._. You pick her up, being careful to avoid her leg, and carry her to Dirk’s bathroom.  There, you begin to clean the wound. You hand her a towel.

“You're going to want to bite this.” 

  


Meanwhile:

“ Alrighty,” Devon  says under his breath, then  his eyes flick to the pair of imps in the doorway and  he tosses his dice. A guillotine instantly materializes, trapping and decapitating one imp,  it's body flailing half a second after its eyes go cold ; a fan of needles shoots from the place the dice  have  landed and finishes off the second. “See?” Devon says. “I’m  _ good _ . I’ll even let you take the grist.”

  


Meanwhile:

You find a pair of tweezers.

She bites the towel, although her eyes are closed. _She’s got no idea what’s about to happen._

You probe.

She screams.

And in a minute or two, the two of you are covered in a sheen of sweat  (well, covered, more like _drenched_ for one of you ), but the bullet is out. _She's bleeding faster. Bandages..._

  


Meanwhile:

“Doesn’t mean _I’m_ any good ,” she says, and, accordingly, takes the grist. 

“I’m sure you are! Why don’t you try and hit one with that bow of yours?”

  


Meanwhile:

You bandage the wound, then move her hair to reveal the welt on her head from her scythe. Fucking _idiots of a team -_ You apply ice.

“Tom,” she says, opening her eyes and moaning: “Why... Did... Why?”

  


Meanwhile:

Ali climb s the staircase. “Stay there,” she growls, and Devon stands motionless even as she apparently aims her arrow directly at him. She kneels down and releases –  _ WHOOSH _ –  the arrow flies by Devon’s face,  only grazing his cheek. The dining room window shatters, and a pair of imps outside dissolve into grist.

“ Ouch,” he says, “but impressive! You  _ are _ good.”

She gives him a smile that says _this amusement goes so much deeper than you know_ and quiet, but prideful words that say "Arrowsmith champion three years in a row," and returns to the doorway beside him.

  


Meanwhile:

You're only sixteen, and you swear to god you've got crow's feet at the corner of your eyes already. You let out a breath, staring into her eyes, and hug Navo. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you two were dating. I didn’t mean to! It was... in the moment.”

She hugs (loosely) back and, from this angle, you can't see her face. “It’s fine... Don’t worry...” Her shoulders start to shake.

You pull out of the hug. _Don't fuck her over..._ “We need to find Dirk.”

Meanwhile:

“ You cut my cheek,” Devon whines. “My perfect complexion is  _ ruined _ .” He rubs his cheek,  pouting .

“Perfect is a bit of an exaggeration.” She pokes the wound. “It’s not even that deep. Besides,” she shrugs, “it’s not my fault you were in the way. Think of it this way: if you don't treat it, it'll scar, and if it scars, it'll just be visible evidence of your courageous, uh, gentlemanliness and bravery in defending young and innocent maidens." 

  


Meanwhile:

Navo nods. “You go find him. I’m gonna fly home...”

Meanwhile:

“...whatever,” Devon concedes, a distasteful twist still on his lips. “Let’s go find an ogre. I wanna kill an ogre.”

“Alright."

  


Meanwhile:

You look at Navo sadly, and your expression softens. “I’ll see you later. Do you – Do you need help? Like... painkillers, or anything?”

She shakes her head.

“Alright, if you say so.” You stand awkwardly, and then, with an inappropriate sense of finality, step out of the bedroom. 

  


Meanwhile:

Devon marches out into Ali'sreflectiveplanet, peering around suspiciously as though daring every silvery tree to jump him when he's not looking. The occasional imp rushes the pair, but they’re no match for the Heirs of Life and Light. “Where are your _ogres_ , Ali?”

She aims – she shoots – but her arrow ricochets off of a false image. “Damn mirrors.”

  


Meanwhile:

Navo slips past you, limping  _ severely _ to her plane.

  


Meanwhile:

“ Dirk!” you call. “You can come out now!” You stumble into the living room. “Dirk?” You turn to see his body lying halfway inside the front door. His head appears to be on the  _ outside _ portion.

“ Dirk,"  you groan,  "what the  _ fuck? _ ” He doesn’t respond. You recall something he said...  _ I feel like it’s just choking me every time I go outside. _ You grab his legs and drag him into the house. “ _ Dirk? _ ”

  


Meanwhile:

Devon throws his dice in another direction, and Ali ducks to avoid them, the two of them stepping in time to some imaginary, dualistic dance – this time, the needles hit flesh, but it only seems to piss off the ogre, its liquidy, constantly-shifting skin enveloping the needles and spitting out decayed husks _._ “Ali,” he says, swallowing, “shoot it while I get my dice.” _Next time, I am absolutely coming up with a retrieval system_.  Devon scrambles down the hills of reflection, slips on the silver beneath an elderly, cracked stretch of mirror, tumbles down to flatter land and leans to pick something up – presumably his dice – rolling out of the way just before an enormous mercury fist smashes into the slippery surface behind him.

  


Meanwhile: 

Outside of the house, Navo inhales – chokes, sneezes, coughs as though she's trying to breathe pepper. _I've gotta get to my plane..._

  


Meanwhile:

Dirk doesn’t appear to be awake.

Meanwhile:

She takes off for  the next nearest planet, tears drawing lines of clarity down her face as they rub off the dirt and poisonous _shit_ clinging out of the clouds of smoke. How long has it been since she showered? _I sure as hell don't know_... 

  


Meanwhile:

He’s probably awake on Derse.

Without hesitation, the Mage collapses into the lone chair of the first-floor entryway. (You’ve gotten good at sleeping.)

  


Meanwhile:

“ What the  _ hell _ , Devon?”  Ali fires a headshot, and the  multicolored flame in the ogre’s eyes goes out  as it collapses to the ground and shatters into fragments of grist . “Don’t do that without warning next time!”

Devon just snickers as he  collects the spoils . It’s a haul compared to  _ imps _ .

“It's a, uh... nice job, though, fucktruck,” Ali admits, admiring.

  


Meanwhile:

On a Dersite sidewalk, the Prince is awake. “Oh my god...”

  


Meanwhile:

“ What the  _ fuck? _ ”  Ali’s scream can  only  be heard  halfway through as the engine is cut . “Devon,  there's a _ plane! _ ”

  


Meanwhile:

In a Dersite bedroom, the Mage is awake.

He remembers vaguely where Dirk was.

Tommaso shakes his head. 

The whispers from above... They’re kind of distracting.

  


Meanwhile:

Your name is Dirk Quintana, and you are the Prince of Blood (even if you don't know it yet).

You take a turn down a side alley, not wanting to encounter any of those weird chess people.

Above you, the Dark Gods whisper. You pay them no attention.

  


Meanwhile:

“ A plane?” Devon says. “We should probably kill it. Or run.”

“No, I want to see who it is.” Ali dashes toward the plane as the door opens, and Devon gives chase, shouting: 

“What if it’s a powerful enemy?”

"Why would they be smart enough to use a plane?”

"That's why it's _powerful!_ " 

  


Meanwhile:

With a _thump_ , Navo falls from the plane. 

_ My leg is  _ killing _ me. _

  


Meanwhile:

From here, Ali can now clearly see that  _ someone _ is now sprawled on the shiny, shiny ground.  _ The fuck? _

Navo groans and,  _ slowly, _ sits up. “Who’s there?”

“Oh my!” Devon exclaims, rushing to the injured girl. “Are you alright?”

“It’s Ali,” joins Ali.

“Well, let’s see," the girl hisses, her hair done up impeccably and her eyes burning with righteous hate. "My datemate just cheated on me – fast forward by two minutes – and I've been shot in the leg. What do you think, _am_ I alright?”

  


Meanwhile:

You may have misjudged this particular side alley. There seems to be a downgrade. And although you don’t know it yet, you’re descending into the core of the Dersite moon. Regardless, you descend the incline, taking a switchback every so often.  There're other things to worry about. 

Despite no obvious light source, you can see perfectly well.

  


Meanwhile:

Tommaso Mambelli sits up, then flies to the top of the nearest cathedral, scanning the main streets of Derse's moon. “DIRK!” He swears and sprints in the direction of uptown, searching for him.

_I'm starting to think just trying to wake up Dirk on his own planet would have been easier_.

  


Meanwhile:

You don’t seem to be feeling...

anything.

_You just shot someone._

Nothing.

_ You’ve ruined your relationship with literally everyone now.  _ _ I mean,  _ literally _ , everyone, _ _ there’s no one left. _

A little pain. But you just walk faster. Soon, you’re running, racing down into the center of the Dersite moon.

Meanwhile:

“Obviously not,” replies Devon. “Elaborate.”

“I’m Navo,” Navo says. “And I’m not dead... yet.” She waves. It’s a sad wave. (It’s a sad girl.)

“Datemate...” Ali says. “ _Dirk shot you?!_ ”

  


Meanwhile:

In a moment's decision, the Mage returns to his tower and lays himself on his Dersite bed.

Tomasso Mambelli awakens on the Land of Smoke and Fracture.

_I'm gonna slap him awake._

  


Meanwhile:

Abruptly, the switchbacks stop and you reach the edge of  what looks like a manufactured cliff.

_What is this place?_

Wires hang on the walls beside you, but the cavern looks enormous. Some sort of stone tablets float suspended in the center of the cavern:  navy, maroon, magenta, and sunrise orange . Where  _ are _ you?

  


Meanwhile:

“ _Y_ _yy_ ep,” Navo says, drawing out the y. “Tom kissed him, and then he shot me after I walked in.”

“Oh my god!" Devon says gleefully.  "I need to rub this shit in Dirk’s _face!_ Well, back to my land." He pauses at Ali's hand on his arm. "Yes?" 

"I need you to do me a favor." 

  


Meanwhile:

Tom slaps Dirk awake. “Dirk!”

He starts awake, his eyes wide. “...sorry.” His head is spinning. “I need to...”

Tears build up in Tom’s eyes, and he pulls Dirk into a giant hug.

  


Meanwhile: 

Devon smiles. "A favor?"

Ali nods decisively. _I don't have to listen to anyone else. Here, now, I'm under no one's power..._ "Take your wings." She can hardly believe the words coming out of her own mouth but, _hey_ , after all, he deserves it. "Take your weapons." _Make a mark_. "And go kill the sick son of a bitch who did this." 

  


Meanwhile:

“ I thought I lost you! I couldn’t find you on Derse!”

Dirk groans and sits down again. “I’d hug you back. Really, I would. But I haven’t been breathing oxygen for maybe the past three minutes...”

Tommaso hugs him a little less tightly, and Dirk tries to struggle to his feet, and fails.

  


Meanwhile:

Devon shakes his head, turning away from her intense gaze to stare up into the sky.  “Not now. In time, Ali. All good things take time.” And with that, he takes toward the sky.

  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!** [5:25PM]

  


Meanwhile:

“Please help me up,” Dirk whispers, and Tom can see tears on his lashes. _I mean, y'know, asphyxiating nearly to death takes a lot out of a guy..._

Tom helps him up, and Dirk seems steady now, but he keeps holding his hand. Because suddenly Tom is looking at him, _really_ looking, and he feels like if he lets go now, he might lose him forever.

Meanwhile:

Ali shakes her fist at the open air  with vehemence. “Fucktruck.” Behind her, Navo sits, graceful even now (as always), her skin drained of color. “Oh, fuck.”

  


EH: Dirk you’re dead. The females of the session are going to kill you if I don’t first.

EH: Hope you see this soon. Goodbye.

  


"Ali?" 

"Yes?" 

"I feel dead." 

  


Meanwhile:

Dirk stumbles to the couch, flopping down into it.

  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Offline!** [5:26PM]

  


As his phone dies upstairs, a notification sounds.

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline!** [5:26PM]

  


“You’re going to have to apologize to Navo. I’ll go alchemite stuff,” Tom says, going upstairs to grab Dirk’s phone. In Dirk’s bedroom, he fucks about with the Alchemiter.

  


Meanwhile:

“You’re not dead,” Ali says. “Trust me. Those bandages look well-wrapped to me. You’re going to be just fine.”

“ I  _ want _ to be dead.”

“Just go to sleep. I’ll go find painkillers.” Ali pats Navo’s head. “Before you sleep, what color is your dream planet?”

“My what planet?” 

  


Meanwhile:

“I don’t want to face her,” Dirk calls upstairs. “I don’t want to face _any_ of them.” He twists around, looking upstairs. “Can we just... stay here?”

Tommaso moves down the stairs, staring Dirk in the eyes. “No.”

  


Meanwhile:

Devon  Hart's waking self falls asleep. In a bedroom on the Dersite moon, the Heir of Light awakens.

Meanwhile:

“This is why you can’t get past that fog. You need to learn to take your problems head-on, be courageous, and show her that you didn't mean what you did." 

Dirk laughs, dry and brittle and desperate. "But I _did,_ Tom." His eyes are pained. Needy. 

  


Meanwhile:

Devon empties a Dersite thug's pockets, and a long knife takes his fancy. “Perfect.

  


Meanwhile:

Navo is slipping away.

“When you sleep, what color do you see?” Ali’s impatient. She’s hoping for an answer of some variant of yellow – _Please,_ _no more lonely sleep._

“ It’s pretty... gold. And bright.” She’s out like a light.

  


Meanwhile:

“I wouldn’t have _done_ it if I didn’t mean to.”

“ What you did was shoot her. Are you telling me you were  _ trying _ to kill her?”

“ But I  _ kissed _ you.”

“ You need to apologize for that. Show her that  _ you didn’t mean to hurt her _ .”

“ Well,” Dirk says, his face hot, “who says I didn’t? Why  _ else _ would I have done it? I  _ have _ no excuses!”

“Let people into your comfort zone.”

Dirk quiets as he realizes how loudly he’s shouting, but he can't keep from pouting. “I wish I could just sleep like a _normal_ _fucking_ human being, without _stupid fucking purple bullshit_ everywhere I look. If I were _unconscious_ I wouldn’t have to _deal_ with this.”

  


Meanwhile:

Ali’s face lights up. This is fantastic! She almost forgets about Dirk.

_Make a mark._

But that’s a big fuckin g almost.

  


Meanwhile:

In a bedroom on Prospit's moon, the Thief awakens.

  


Meanwhile:

Tommaso bends down for a kiss to Dirk’s forehead. “Look, just – however you handle it, please, _please,_ handle it. Tell her sorry. I’ll help you get through that smoke, but first I’m Alchemiting stuff.”

  


Meanwhile:

Ali drags Navo inside of her house and plops her on a couch. She steps outside to retrieve her weapon, her wings. 

_ _ _ Make _

_a_

_ mark _ .

  


Meanwhile:

“ Yeah, alright,” Dirk says. “She’s not on that purple planet, is she?”

“I don’t think so.”

  


Meanwhile:

The wings flap lazily as Ali is lifted into the sky. It’s a long flight to her gate. She's hardly even built up her house.

  


Meanwhile:

Navo looks around the pretty golden planet. Even though it’s pretty, she feels like shit.

  


Meanwhile:

Tommaso takes out his shitty phone that can’t handle a fucking chat app to referencehis list of codes. 

_You made a Wingtop!_

  


Meanwhile:

Exhausted, the Dersite Prince awakens.

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [5:29PM]

  


SS: hello?

SS: devon no!

  


Again, he’s in that cavern. Miles above, he can hear the carapacians, singing, long after the fact:

“The Prince is awake. Our Blood runs strong.”

  


Meanwhile:

Ali  _ zings _ through  gate after gate until her oxygen tank switches on as a thick, choking smoke appears . Judging by Navo’s description, this is the place. Her phone buzzes.

  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [5:29PM]

SS: ali help devons going 2 kill dirk

  


Meanwhile:

“I don’t... want... to move,” Dirk mutters to himself, mostly to relieve the silence – other than the otherworldy chanting of the Dersites, of course.

  


Meanwhile:

Navo wakes up again on the Land of Aurora and Masquerades.

_D_ _efinitely did_ _not_ _bang_ _my_ _head against_ _the golden_ _bedroom wall until_ _I_ _passed out again._ _That is_ not _a thing I did._ Her phone buzzes. 

  


Meanwhile:

Dirk sits up, then moves to the edge  of the strangely manufactured cavern, danging his feet over it.

  


VP: no he’s not.

  


He can’t see the bottom, though the sides seem to have the slightest of curves.

  


SS: ...

VP: dirk is mine.

  


** carbonatedCorpse [CC] ** is now  ** Online!  ** [5:30PM]

  


Meanwhile:

Deep in the center of urbanity on Derse's moon, an unusual tunnel beckons to Devon. Are those whispers he can hear from its depths at odds with the whispers of the eldritch gods above?

Aboveground, Dirk’s mutters echo outward to the Heir.

  


CC: oh sounds fun I want in

SS: guys :(

VP: alchemite wings the code is written on my desk.

CC: but what about my plane?

VP: Plane is good.

  


“ _I don’t... want... to move.”_

Yes, Devon has heard correctly! That was definitely Dirk. 

He rushes t o greet him.  _ Sorry, Dirk. You were the one who decided it was kill or be killed. _

  


CC: it’s way better than some wings anyway

SS: navo I thought we settled this

CC: too bad

SS: I thought we were on good terms :/

  


Meanwhile:

Belowground, Dirk allows himself to float off the ledge, hovering in the air.

_What do I do now?_

  


CC: WE are

CC: as in me and you

CC: not dirk

SS: touch dirk and die

VP: Navo  if you alchemite an oxygen tank and mask you can get through the smoke

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **flying a plane and dying from pain**!  [5:31PM]

  


Meanwhile: 

“Hello, Dirk.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tommaso has alchemited the Invisible Machine Gun! 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk whips around, his eyes wide and his mouth already open in a cry of terror. “Devon!”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tommaso has alchemited the Invisible Bulletproof Vest!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo limps her way to her plane. The engine starts with a guttural roar, and off she flies toward the Land of Smoke and Fracture. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **doing god’s work**!  [5:32PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Hiya,” says Devon. “Time to die.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Dirk!” cries Tommaso. “Wake up!” 

On the Land of Smoke and Fracture, the Prince jerks awake. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Land of Smoke and Fracture, the Thief hovers mid-air. Beside her, the Heir floats. 

“Let me hop in your plane,” Ali suggests. Navo opens the door. Ali hops in her plane. _Planes are cool._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ Ali and Navo are coming to kill you!” 

“So is Devon,” Dirk gasps, getting to his feet frantically. They slip out from under him, in the other direction; his motions are wild and uncoordinated. “Fuck!” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On Derse, Devon witnesses the body in front of him slump. Asleep? 

_Ugh_. 

He can’t kill somebody in their sleep! The cowardice! Ungentlemanly. _I can wait._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk manages to stand, facing the open door. “Tom, _where_ is my gun?” 

“Fuck,” Tommaso says, the _u_ drawn out, long. “I gave it back to you, didn’t I?” 

“I… right,” Dirk answers. He grabs the submachine gun from behind the couch, where he first ‘hid’ it. Tom equips his vest. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“He is _so_ dead,” Navo growls, speeding up as she lands instead of slowing down. Luckily, the improved shock-absorption technologies available through alchemy take up all the force. She manages not to crash into Dirk’s house. 

Ali exits her door, ducking under the railing of the porch for a quick entry. Navo likewise disembarks, her scythe carried beside her. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Inside the house, Dirk raises his gun, waiting for motion from the last place he heard the airplane. Tom ducks for cover. Seeing this, Dirk moves behind a bathroom doorframe, waiting. 

“Where are you?” Dirk says, his voice dry, crackling, and terrified. 

“Seriously, what the fuck, guys?” says Tom. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali sits on the inside of a tree – the one tree in miles – having climbed it before Tom or Dirk spoke. She waits for a loud noise to point an arrow at. On the ground is Navo. She looks resigned, but… also absolutely _vengeful_.  Her hair, done up in perfection, creates a striking frame to top off an already impressive figure... 

She goes inside. Ali peers through the window, notching an arrow. 

  


Meanwhile: 

Navo stands in the doorway. 

Dirk chokes a sob. “Please.” 

“Don’t hurt Dirk!” adds Tom. “We can settle this calmly…” 

Dirk looks between Tom and Navo and makes a split-second decision. He drops his gun, standing out vis-a-vis Navo. Seeing movement, Ali fires an arrow blindly. It smashes through the window, hitting the couch directly opposite it. 

“Please,” Dirk says, paying it no attention. 

  
  


SS: DON’T HURT DIRK WE CAN SETTLE THIS CALMLY

  
  


“Call this off,” Dirk pleads. 

  
  


SS: WTF IS ALI

  
  


“Navo, please, tell her to stop.” 

“Where the hell is Ali?” Tom demands. 

“Too late for that,” says Navo. She charges. The action has begun, and it has no intention of stopping now. Ali aims at Tom just as he levels his gun - as Ali’s arrow pierces the space between his shoulder and his neck, Tom’s bullets pierce Navo. She is hit for the second time. Finally, Dirk tries to leap out of the way, just as Navo’s scythe cleaves him in half. 

Tom touches his own pierced skin, and of course his fingers slip on blood. It’s not fatal, though - not if it’s treated soon. _Dirk..._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Elsewhere, a pair of hazel eyes opens. 

Dirk stumbles to his feet.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali hears quite a bit of gunfire. _I'm glad none of_ that _had anything to do with me._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Finally, you’re awake. A proper duel can take place.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo collapses over Dirk’s dead body, a single gunshot wound in her abdomen bleeding out. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Devon,” the Prince gasps. “They killed me. I can’t…” 

“Oh, my. What a shame. _Totally_ surprised. You did,  y'know, try and kill your girlfriend, _after_ you cheated on her.” 

  
  


SS: ALI WHAT THE FUCK YOU HIT ME

  
  


“She attacked me!” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali jumps down from her tree and walks in through the open door, looking over the carnage, her oxygen mask discarded beside her, her voice deathly quiet. “Tommaso.” 

Beside her feet, Navo is bleeding, and nowhere yet near dead. Ali grabs her under the armpits. Her hands slippery with blood, she has to try once - twice - but the third time, she gets a hold.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“She attacked you…" Devon's eyes narrow. " _She_ didn’t mention that detail.” 

“Devon, she threatened me with her scythe. I had no choice! I was… I was scared, I was terrified… And I shot to injure, not to _kill_.”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom finds difficulty talking. But by now, Ali is gone. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ Regardless, Dirk, you did say you were going to kill me." Devons teeth grit. "I have to defend myself.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The Land of Pirates and Rocks.

Ali takes a heavy step, adjusts the body in her grasp. 

  
  


SS: PLEASE HELP ME

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“...okay,” Dirk concedes. _fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ “I’m dead already anyway, aren’t I?” 

  
  


SS: ALI COME BACK

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali locates the plateau towering over the waves - one of the only ones, besides the location of Navo’s house, and certainly the tallest. Atop the plateau is a slab. The words of her guide echo in her memory. 

  
  


SS: DON’T MAKE ME DIE SLOWLY

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“You’re here and talking,” Devon muses, “so it’s unlikely.” 

  
  


SS: GUYS?

  
  


Meanwhile: 

But nobody comes. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali lays Navo on her bed. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“They killed me on LOSAF,” says Dirk. “How likely will it be that I survive that?” 

“Perhaps you’re just on your final life?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Land of Smoke and Fracture, the slightest wrong move pushes the arrow just further into Tommaso’s artery, and the Mage jerks, and falls, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as agony explodes across his body like lightning arcing through his fingertips.

  
  


SS: IT HURTSSSSSSSS

  
  


The lightning-pain jerks the phone from his hand.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk gives a grin, shrugging, and initiates combat. He leaps at Devon, throwing a right hook that _should_ be wildly off course. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Slowly, slowly, Navo is laid onto her bed. Slowly, slowly, she dies. Slowly, slowly...

  
  


The **Thief** of **Life** has **ascended**!

  
  


Ali Bradford flies away, breaking the sound barrier. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom’s vision is fuzzy, and he isn’t high this time. Despite his calls for help, the last of his life force leaves him… 

  
  


**Tommaso Mambelli** is now **dead**!

  
  


Too late, Ali slams open the door of Dirk’s house, and Tommaso's eyes stare up at her, desperate, lifeless. 

She couldn’t save this one. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Although Dirk’s first punch is incredibly badly aimed, Devon manages to try to dodge in that direction - he’s hit and stumbles back. “Nice punch, sir!” He shakes his head of the daze, fingering a Dersite knife, and swings it at Dirk. 

“ Thanks, love,” Dirk says, managing to dodge the first swing. He tries to jump back, to move around the next, but a deep cut slices into his shoulder, and Dirk growls. 

They are really bad at this. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

But she may as well try. 

Ali grabs his arm and drags him through the gates, to his planet. Just in case. As she’s flying around the land, she sees a severe decline, perfectly round, exponentially curved - like a sinkhole. In the center, a slab. She lets the plane hover, laying him on the bed. 

Will this even work? 

Ali's guide whimpers beside her. "M'lassie? When'd you get here?" 

When she looks again, the pup is gone without a trace of fedora. 

_Will this even work?_

Who knows? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The Thief scoffs. 

_Beige? Beige, against a background of black and white?_ She shudders. _Horrendous. Whoever designed a planet in black and white tile should be beheaded._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Perhaps in another time,” Devon says, “we could’ve been friends. But unfortunately, this time is not now.” 

Dirk tackles Devon, throwing him bodily backward. 

  
  


The **Mage** of **Void** has **ascended**!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali almost misses her own planet, flying back through the gates; her tears obscure her vision. 

She was right about one thing. 

Blood was spilled. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon and Dirk tumble; Devon’s knife is sent flying from his hand. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Battlefield of Skaia, Tommaso looks at Navo. 

Navo looks at Tommaso. 

He flips her off. 

“Fuck you too!” She hasn’t started crying, not yet. 

He floats over to her anyway, shaking his head in disbelief (more in himself than her). “Are you okay?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk grabs for the knife that _scutter_ s across the floor, finding its grip. He turns and, without further ado, plunges it into Devon’s abdomen. “Sorry,” he hisses, then removes it, tossing it away, down and into the pit in which the four slabs lie. "I have to defend myself." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“What do you think?” Navo says, looking down at her new outfit. She’s still on the ground, still just-resurrected, and he's already stood, taken stock of the situation. 

Tommaso offers his hand to help her up. 

She looks at his hand. 

She takes it. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon seems stunned, but in the span of two seconds he goes from shocked and unseeing to lucid and strangely satisfied. His voice falters, and then he’s just looking at Dirk. “That,” he says, “was a wonderful duel.” 

Devon Hart collapses.

Dirk glares at Devon’s body, then turns to look at the stone tablets floating in the center of the core. 

_**ONE WHO IS PROTECTED BY LIGHT.**_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Let’s fly back,” Tom says. “I left a lot of good gear at Dirk’s house.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

With a grin, Dirk finds the stone slab that he thinks most fits Devon - an obnoxious orange and yellow. He deposits Devon’s dead body atop it, smirking. It’s like a sacrifice, even if the animal is far too inelegant. 

A sudden pain spears through his middle. “Fuck…” His body is coming apart. _The scythe._

_**HIS NAME IS DEVON HART.**_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

M'Lassie pats her back, and, the horror of the past hour finally beginning to make itself known, Ali Bradford begins to cry. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“I…” Navo says. “I never want to go back there, but... I need my plane.” 

Tom flies back with her. There’s another item he wanted to alchemite, anyway...

  
  


Meanwhile: 

With the grace of a dying dog, Dirk Quintana falls backward out of the air and directly onto a wine-red slab. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On LOSAF, Tom gets to work. He knows he should be thinking of Dirk and dealing with the consequences, but every time he tries, his mind pushes it away…

  
  


The **Heir** of **Light** has **ascended**!

  
  


Meanwhile:

Outside, on the Land of Smoke and Fracture, Navo leans on her plane and waits for Tom to come outside. Assuming that he _will_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Your name is Ali Bradford, and is this what some would call a mental breakdown? You can only assume. 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **back from the dead**!  [6:06PM]

  


SS: I hope you guys are proud of yourselves now. 

  
  


Your phone buzzes. You ignore it. It’s not anyone you like. Everyone you like is dead. 

Your name is Ali Bradford, and everyone you like is fucking dead.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk's body is pathetic, cleaved in two and still reaching out, his eyes still echoing the hope of mercy. 

Tommaso leaves the corpse. 

“Th \- Thanks for waiting for me,” he says, outside of the house. 

Navo smiles. “Want a ride?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“The Prince is dead,” a ghostly wail comes from the Dersites. “Our Blood is stopped.”

“The Heir is dead,” they bemoan. “Our Light is out.” 

  
  


But the Heir is awake. 

  
  


He’s wearing bright yellow and orange - what trashy colors. And a hood? That part’s nice, though. Didn’t he die? Maybe he passed out and… no. This is something else. He gets up and looks at the dead Quintana. Pathetic. He flies up the tunnels, heading for his planet and ignoring the rejoicing cries of Dersites on the surface.

Perhaps he can figure things out there. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom attempts a smile. Honestly, he’s not sure he can trust Navo not to murder him too. “Sure?” 

His hesitation is obvious. 

“I was thinking I need a better plane,” Navo offers. “Maybe you can help? I know you were the first to figure out the wings.” She opens the door and slips into the captain’s seat. 

“Well,” Tom says. “If you want an invisible plane.” 

  
  


The **Prince** of **Blood** has **ascended**!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Your name is Ali Bradford. 

You unearth your head from your covers and grab your stuffed dog. He’s so soft. M'Lassie, your guide, just coos and pets your hair.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“That would be cool, I think,” Navo says. She starts up the plane. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Land of Paint and Labyrinth, Mr. Card leaps excitedly, trying to spell some things out, but Devon pushes him aside. Doesn’t matter. He’s got things to do. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Online!** [6:08PM]

  


EH: I killed Dirk on Derse

EH: and now I have a quality costume

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In the core of Derse, the Prince of Blood awakens for the last time. 

  
  


EH: don’t ask me how

SS: u piece of shit

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali’s phone buzzes again. She ignores it again. Fucking spam. 

  
  


EH: it has a sun on it

CC: oh man

CC: I got a cool costume with a... thing on it

EH: I think OHMYGOD

CC: what even is this?

EH: Mr. Card is saying we are 

EH: God tiers? 

SS: I got one too

EH: he says we are magic beings that can fly

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk isn’t sure what’s happening. 

_I guess I didn’t die after all_. 

  
  


SS: ... 

CC: you know, voice recognition is great

CC: im in a plane with tom

EH: apparently

EH: if you die on this bed thing

EH: you get magic powers

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali squeezes Mr. Fluff as her computer beeps. 

  
  


EH: wait

EH: you guys died too? 

SS: ye and tbh im rly pissed rn

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The Prince flees Derse, ignoring his feelings. Something he’s not used to, but that he likes quite a bit. 

  
  


CC: i am too. join the club

EH: oh fun

SS: since dirks... u know, I guess hell never get to be one 2

EH: holy shit

EH: guys

EH: I can glow

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali is alone. All her friends are dead. 

...who the hell is spamming her? 

  
  


CC: you glow? 

SS: good now I can find u easier

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rocketing above Derse, it’s easier for Dirk to see the revolutions of the planets. 

  


EH: I’m going to tell Ali we aren’t dead... Unless she died too. We need to put her body on the bed thing

EH: I can

  


He’s guessing his is the one completely obscured by thick film. 

  
  


CC: wait is Ali dead?!

EH: I don’t know. I was killed on Derse

  
  


He turns away from it. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo turns the plane toward LOAAM. 

  
  


SS: idk last thing I remember she murdered me

CC: sorry tom we’re going on a rescue mission

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Offline and saving lives**!  [6:09PM]

  
  


SS: navo we can talk were literally on the same plane

SS: on the topic of murder

SS: wtf

SS: were u guys doing

EH: I killed Dirk out of self defense

EH: the other stuff was the girls

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk peers at the golden moon, so bright it hurts his eyes, and flies directly for it. 

  
  


SS: o rly

SS: b/c I remember u saying something about killing dirk because he cheated? 

EH: Anyway, I’m gonna tell Ali we’re alive. I’ll keep my phone on me

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo’s going to crash this fucking plane if she keeps going at these speeds. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk lands on the surface of the moon of the golden planet, with only two towers to the Dersite four. 

  
  


SS: cheatings bad but it doesnt warrant a FUCKING BOUNTY ON HIS HEAD

  
  


He flies up to one of the windows; it’s empty. But the other one…

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon flies toward his first gate and manages to arrive at Ali’s door. “Ali! Come out.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Yep. 

She crashed the plane. 

#  EH: true

  
  


(Rest in peace.) 

EH: but he did shoot Navo

  


Well, by _crashed_ she really means _almost destroyed Ali’s house with_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk slaps the dream self of Alexis Bradford. “Ali,” Dirk says. “Ali, it’s Dirk.” 

She wakes from her sleep and she screams a _piercing_ shriek. “LEAVE ME ALONE!” 

  
  


####  SS: tldr im going to make myself scarce 4 a while

EH: fine

  
  


“ _Ali!”_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Sigh,” says Devon Hart to himself. “Perhaps it would be smart to kill her on her bed thing.” He considers this. “Nah. She’d probably kill me.” 

  
  


###  **sexySlytherin[SS]** is now **Offline and fucking pissed that he’s playing with a bunch of insane murderers**! [6:11PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ALI!” screams Navo. “DID YOU DIE?!”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“You’re DEAD, Dirk! You fucking DIED!”

“I’m okay now,” Dirk says. “I think.” 

“Please,” Ali beseeches him, tears staining her face. “Just leave me alone. This is too much for me to process.” 

“I must have done something, because I’m no longer dead… which I distinctly remember I was, at one point.” 

  


Meanwhile: 

“Hey, friend," Devon greets, floating down to meet Navo with what he probably thinks is a roguish wink.

“Hey!” She runs inside. _Where the hell’s Ali?_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Ali, I don’t know what the others are going to do. But this is the place you’ll get the most privacy.” Dirk is making up lies as he goes. “I’m here to make sure you don’t have to deal with them.” 

“Goodie. But please just leave me alone.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom looks away from Devon and Navo. But where’s Ali? 

Devon follows closely behind Navo, spotting the unconscious body. “She’s asleep.” 

“Knock me out!” insists Navo. 

  
  


EH: um... Good luck with this.

  
  


He punches Navo. 

And she’s down, for the three or so seconds that people who can be put out with a punch _stay_ out.

(If you thought it was more, you've been watching too many movies.)

She opens her eyes. "I didn't dream." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Fine,” Dirk says. “But they’re going to be worse than I am.” 

With that, he exits the tower, flying for the center around which all else revolves. Skaia. 

“I don’t care.” Ali’s voice falls flat and useless behind him, unheard by anyone.

She curls up into a ball.

Too much death for today. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The Thief alights on Prospit, no longer possessing a dreamself, the entire flight taking only a few minutes.

"Ali? Are you there?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“You know,” Tom says, “I have codes for anesthetics, Devon.” 

Devon’s swivels and he sees Tommaso. “It wouldn’t be as fun... Are we going to have to fight?” 

“No. I’m just silently judging for now. Maybe when the time comes.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ALI?” 

Ali screams into her pillow. _Fucking shit..._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“If it makes you feel better, Dirk is alive… probably.” 

Tom glares. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ALI, WHERE ARE YOU?!” 

Ali screams outside of her pillow. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“I’m trying to give you comfort here,” Devon says. 

“His body is lying cut in half at his house.” 

“And technically it’s your fault he’s dead.” 

“Oh, thanks, Devon. Such a gentleman.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" Navo enters through the window. “Ali, are you okay?!” 

“ _You_ ,” Ali cries, her voice harsh. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“His dream self died on the bed, thanks to yours truly. You’re welcome.” 

Tom ignores him contemptuously. This? It doesn’t make any sense. His dream self is on a bed? The Dark Gods would have informed him, if it were important. _Besides_ , says a voice in his head, a small voice of reason, _if the Gods don't want you to know, then you shouldn't know. Everything happens for a reason..._

“Whatever. I have better things to do.” As Devon's steps fade, Tom continues to consider, clean, and generally help where he can around the house, silently judging. 

  


Meanwhile: 

Devon flies off, his destination a moon Prospitian. _Something is telling me that Prospit is the place to be tonight. When has luck ever steered me wrong?_

_On the other hand..._

His lip curls. 

_What's so great about yellow, anyway?_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk Quintana’s dream self - now his permanent residence - alights atop the highest tower of a black castle on the white-and-black planet at the center of the satellites. 

On the highest tower of a random Dersite castle, Dirk keels over, exhausted, and wishes all of this would just go away. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Ali?” Navo approaches her. 

“You died..."

“No? I mean, I did… But not anymore.” 

“You fucking _died_ , Navo!” Ali screams. Her sobbing is renewed as she inches further into the corner.

"I guess I did… but I’m not dead anymore, I promise!” 

" _Fuck you!_ " 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon is on Prospit in no time. “Hello?” he calls out. “People? Humans, preferably?” 

  


Meanwhile: 

Ali’s scream-sobs peak. _Get ahold of yourself,_ M'lassie murmurs directly into her mind, and Ali shudders with the effort and pain.

“Woah! Don’t yell!” Devon berates. 

“Ali…” Navo sighs. 

“It’s simple, Ali,” Devon says, ducking beneath some kind of mobile to stand beside Navo.

“I DON’T WANT TO DI - ” 

"ALI!"

It's a wonder her vocal cords haven't given out yet. 

Navo's hand clamps over Ali's mouth. “You’re _fine_ _!_ ” 

“If you die on a special bed,” Devon explains patiently, “you come back to life.” 

Ali screams into Navo’s hand. The damn band lungs never quit. 

“Ali,” Devon sighs, “shut up for a second. Nobody is dead.” 

Navo sighs. “I didn’t want to do this, but…” She takes hold of Ali’s head. 

She slams Ali’s head against the wall. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Land of Aurora and Masquerade, Ali is awake. 

She has a headache. 

What’s with the headache?

Is she… _bleeding?_

She remembers what's with the headache. 

" _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA_ – "

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Harsh, Navo.” 

“See you on the other side.” She kicks off.

"Yeah," Devon mutters, rolling his eyes and following her into the black of the Incipisphere. "See you." 

  
  


♞

  
  


She looks over Ali. _Fuck it_. Mayday, mayday! Plane down!  Navo hops out of the plane. 

On the Land of Aurora and Masquerade, Ali Bradford awakens long enough to witness her impending fate. 

_Well, fuck_.  Ali has just enough time to wonder whether _pieces_ of a player on _pieces_ of a Quest Bed – 

_Sorry, Ali,_ thinks Navo. Somewhere a thousand universes from her, a few alphanumeric characters float through paradox space, forming and reforming phrases at random, and briefly composing the following number-letter sequence: _Them’s the 8r8ks!_ From her position floating above the ground, Navo watches the fireworks. 

  
  


The **Heir** of **Hope** has **ascended**!

  
  


_Well, damn. Now I need a new plane_. Navo shrugs and flies off toward the Land of Pirates and Rocks. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Skaian Battlefield, the Heir of Hope looks down at her hands. She… she’s alive? 

Ali shakes her head and retreats to a very particular house. It’s been a long day. She _doesn’t_ want to remember today. Through gates upon gates she flies, until she finally reaches the Land of Pirates and Rocks. “Navo!” 

On LOPAR, Mx. Clubb is distracted briefly from her newly-alchemited plane brigade by Ali floating gracefully down to her. 

“Oh, hey, Ali,” she says absentmindedly. “I made some new planes. Want one?” She places the finishing touches on a dark green paintjob, holding the palette between clenched teeth. 

_There’s got to be safer ways to do that_. “Navo,” Ali says, jumping into the air and doing a few somersaults, “we can fly now. Planes are obsolete.” 

“I like planes.” Navo crosses her arms. 

“Alrighty.” Ali wanders somewhere into the rows of planes, and pokes at a blue one. Her nail scratches at the wet paint. _Nice_ _job_ _, fucktruck._

“Did you hurt my plane?” Navo’s head appears from behind the biplane. 

Ali widens her eyes. “...no?” 

“You better not have.” Something occurs to the Thief. “Wanna race?” 

“Sure, but… What would you do if I had? Hurt your plane, I mean?” 

Navo shrugs. “Fix it? I wouldn’t kill you again. I feel like that'd get repetitive eventually. I want to save the good stuff for later.” 

“Oh, good.” _I think_. 

Navo hops into a crimson plane. “You taking a plane, or flying yourself?” 

“Fly myself,” answers Ali. She hovers at eye level with Navo, a good five feet above the ground, in starting position. 

“Have fun. 3…” Navo starts the plane. “2… See you on LOAAM. 1.” She takes off. 

Ali accelerates way faster than she was prepared for, flying at speeds exceeding the speed of sound. She passes two gates in the first few seconds - _5 to go_. 

Navo has taken the fast track (AKA direct gamespace). _Hell yes, supersonic racing._ She narrowly avoids a planet. _Hell yes, trying not to crash into LOSAF._

Ali speeds through the rest of the gates and flies into her bedroom window. She races downstairs, arriving at the front door just as Navo nearly crashes into it. It’s a good thing Ali’s land, despite all these illusions of buildings, is mostly flat. Ali grins, for the first time in a while. 

Navo hops out. “You’re welcome for crashing that old plane, by the way.”

Ali frowns, immediately on the defensive. “I didn’t ask you to kill me.” 

“Well, you _were_ bleeding.” Navo shrugs. "At least, one of your selves was..."

“Because _you_ slammed my head into a wall.” 

“‘Cus _you_ were being super loud and couldn’t get a grip on yourself.” 

“That’s when you smack someone, not when you try to kill them!” 

“I didn’t try to kill you _that_ time!” 

“I don’t care!” 

“Well, today’s been a rough day for everyone!” 

“So why is everyone taking it so calmly?! Are we not going to talk about the fact that we all just _murdered_ each other?!”

“At this point, I’m just trying to forget the whole day!” 

“LIKEWISE!” Ali storms back inside the house to grab a Coke. 

“UGH!” That didn’t take long. Navo’s back in her plane, off to LOPAR. 

Meanwhile, Ali doesn’t even drink her soda. She just throws the unopened can at a wall. _You wasteful_ whore _._ She flies back to Prospit instead. _Still blinding as ever._ There she returns to her bedroom. She lays there a while. 

Thinking…

Wondering. 


	9. I Lost You Down in Adelaide

Tuesday, November 10, 2015

**dogsarereallyfuckinggreatlikeholyShit [DS]** is now **Online!** [3:33AM]

  
  


DS: Dogs are really fucking great. 

DS: Like holy shit. 

DS: Is anyone online? 

DS: Anyone?

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online, briefly.**!  [3:47AM]

  
  


ER: rory. 

DS: Dirk?

ER: oh my god. 

ER: navo and devon killed me.

DS: What. 

DS: Shit, they stole the opportunity straight from my grasp. 

ER: shut. up.

DS: But, more importantly, how are you communicating? 

ER: i cannot believe i was DEAD. 

DS: Is this a seance? 

ER: satanguide was terrorizing the fuck out of losaf and then i kissed tommaso and everything went to shit. 

  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [3:49AM]

  
  


VP: It went to hell

DS: Interesting. 

VP: I don’t think you’re fully grasping the fact that everyone died. 

DS: I knitted sweaters for my dogs. 

VP: We murdered each other. 

ER: were alive now. im trying not to think about it. 

DS:And Barksalot Ruffkins has opened up a grocery store. 

VP: It was terrifying. 

DS: Why do you always have to be so dramatic. Just go off and find your own dog city to run and everyone will be happier. 

VP: Rory get your head out of your ass. This is life or death. 

DS: Not for me it isn’t. I’ve lived a simple life. I’m a mayor now, show me some respect.

ER: weve all got sick powers now rory. 

ER: or at least i do. 

ER: ive got some kind of bullshit pajamas and i can fly. 

ER: not the derse ones, something else. 

VP: Rory you have even woken up on derse?

DS: What is Derse? 

ER: that purple planet. the small black people called it derse. 

DS: Well this is all news to me. 

VP: We have powers? 

ER: um. i mean, unless i had the capacity to rip battlements apart by looking at them BEFORE...

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online and still pissed of at someone**!  [5:50AM]

  
  


DS: Nice to see you again, Navo. 

CC: likewise

ER: i said sorry. 

CC: so what did I miss

DS: I knitted my dog sweaters. 

CC: I died

ER: yes, navo, all of us did. 

DS: Why is everyone dying? 

DS: Are you all really that bad at staying alive. 

VP: We killed each other. 

DS: Why???

VP: A mixture of accidents and anger 

DS: I can’t leave you guys alone for one day without murder happening. 

VP: Indeed. Way too much occurred in your absence. 

DS: There has only been one (1) murder involving me, and that was of my beautiful dog. 

DS: Please tell me Devon died as well. 

VP: Yes. And according to him, his stabbing was painful. 

DS: Thank goodness. 

CC: well all our deaths were painful

VP: Yes sadly all our deaths were painful as well. 

ER: i stabbed him with his own knife. 

ER: i think hes alive again now, though. his body was gone when i woke up. 

ER: at least i died quickly. 

ER: well, i died quickly on LOSAF. 

CC: I try to kill people as quick as possible

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Online!** [7:28AM]

  
  


CC: oh hello devon

VP: EH!

EH: so... No hard feelings? 

DS: Fuck off. 

ER: you attacked me with a knife, devon.

EH: technically you initiated it

EH: and I made you a god

CC: im pretty sure the hate is all pointed at dirk. (and then thrown right back at us)

VP: I’m almost 100% sure I’m the only one happy to see Devon. 

CC: I am as well, ali

VP: I have been proven wrong. 

ER: i issued an empty threat. and circumstantial results dont matter. 

EH: have you ever considered that was my plan? 

EH: my god

DS: Dirk, I wanted to kill Devon! Fuck, I missed my chance. 

ER: has anyone considered that literally all of this is because devon is so hateful???

DS: Yes. 

CC: clearly

EH: has anyone considered this was because you cheated on your girlfriend

EH: then shot her

VP: Devon is okay

CC: it’s clearly not because of that

DS: Okay wow what the fuck. 

EH: and is most likely still probably lusting after Tommaso still? 

ER: devon, you agreed that i was justified when we were chatting on derse. 

EH: I don’t recall that

EH: cheating is never justified

ER: and then you said you were only attacking me because i threatened you. 

EH: yeah well... You say crazy things before you go off to die

EH: I wouldn’t be surprised

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Idle and avoiding confrontation**!  [7:31AM]

  
  


DS: I am feeling love for the first time in my life. My blackened heart is beating again. And you lot are killing each other. Is there some kind of emotion swapping going on here?!

EH: DS, you might want to reconsider your hatred of me

EH: because I haven’t cheated on or shot my significant other yet

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Offline and going to repeatedly crash some planes**!  [7:31AM]

  
  


ER: stop trying to avoid blame. you know full well what you said. 

EH: and you know what you said and did

ER: can no one else here see that devon being a manipulative ass is the problem???

DS: You all should adopt dogs. 

DS: I highly recommend it. 

EH: um... 

EH: but

EH: they make a mess

EH: and slobber ):

DS: You mean like how you made a mess of this team? 

EH: bunnies are just fine ^_^

DS: I hate all of you

DS: And that’s never going to change. 

EH: sorry I guess

EH: anyway, do you even know if Tommaso lived? 

DS: My hatred for this team is profound and eternal. 

DS: It corrupts my very soul with searing rage. 

EH: if it’s any consolation, I do have a bit of remorse for killing the dog

EH: a tad uncalled for I suppose

DS: You’re all incompetent assholes. 

EH: incompetent? 

EH: we’re kinda all gods

DS: Well I mean you did all kill yourselves.

ER: we should stick together, rory. i dont trust them not to attack us again under devon. 

EH: excuse me

EH: I didn’t tell them to attack you!

EH: in fact, I told them to wait

DS: Dirk I am happy to bond over our shared hatred of Devon. 

ER: i offered myself to navo to pay for what i did to her. 

ER: i died by choice, rory. 

EH: not exactly

DS: If I didn’t hate you so much, I may even consider being your "friend". 

EH: from what I remember being told, you were chopped in half

EH: and shot Navo before you did

DS: I hate all of you so fucking much :)

EH: language

ER: i shot navo because she threatened me with a scythe. 

EH: perhaps abscond next time

EH: or reason with her

EH: or don’t be a dirty cheater

DS: I’m so glad I have people to hate. It motivates me and fills me with spite. Thanks for that, I guess. 

EH: you’re welcome

ER: and i shot her in the LEG so she wouldnt DIE!!

EH: if you’d like, I’d love to kill you (and by that I mean I can assist in god-tier related activities)

DS: I am happy here without your ridiculous "godly" schtick.

EH: you get magic powers too

EH: like you’re nearly impossible to kill

DS: I already have an army. Why would I need more power. 

EH: I don’t know, perhaps near invincibility and what kind of army? 

DS: I have been training my dogs. 

DS: Isn’t it funny what teamwork can do? 

EH: oh. The imps? 

DS: Yes. 

EH: if only our team worked like that

DS: I have, what, over a thousand imps? 

DS: Quite a few biclopses and basilisks as well

ER: im going to your house, rory. i need a place to chill. 

DS: You are welcome at any time, so long as you don’t kill anything. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline!** [7:37AM]

  
  


EH: perhaps now would be a good time to tell you Rory

DS: Tell me what?!

EH: nah. Just be cautious I suppose. And not necessarily of me. 

EH: good luck with a murderer in your house

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Offline!** [7:38AM]

  
  


DS: Oh my fucking god. 

DS: I cannot deal with this shit. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **No longer idle!** [7:44AM]

  
  


DS: Thank god, someone’s here again. 

DS: I don’t want to become a total social recluse. 

DS: As tempting as the offer sounds. 

VP: Happy to see me? That’s odd. 

DS: As far as I know you’ve done nothing to upset me. 

  
  


**VividParadox [VP]** is now **Idle!** [7:49AM]

  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online and STILL VERY MAD**!  [11:02AM]

  
  


CC: did everyone die again? 

DS: Greetings. 

CC: let me rephrase that: did dirk die again? 

CC: cause I am more than willing to make that happen if it hasn’t already

DS: He’s come over to my empire. 

CC: so that’s a no....?

  
  


Your name is Devon Hart, and you never could resist an opportunity to be sneaky. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!** [11:35AM]

  
  


CC: hello again devon

EH: hello!

CC: does anyone want to come over to LoPaR and fly some planes? 

EH: no thanks on the planes. 

EH: I’d be too scared

CC: darn

DS: Tell me, Devon. 

EH: tell you what? 

DS: What were you about to say. 

DS: Before you logged off. 

EH: it doesn’t matter. You don’t listen anyway

CC: rory do you want to fly planes? 

DS: Tempting. 

DS: I hate my houseguest a whole awful lot. 

DS: Planes sound like a better alternative than "Bonding Time With Dirk". 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]**!  [11:36AM]

  
  


EH \---> CC: he is not to be trusted

CC \---> EH: you sure? 

EH \---> CC: positive. He’s allying himself with Dirk

CC \---> EH: oh

EH \---> CC: yeah so... Keep that in mind

CC \---> EH: will do

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** has ceased **private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]**! [11:38AM]

  
  


DS: Hello? 

CC: you know what? 

CC: the tides are too strong

DS: Oh. Well, another time then. 

CC: yeup

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **private messaging dogsarereallyfuckinggreatlikeholyShit [DS]**!  [11:38AM]

  
  


EH \---> DS: Do you really want to know?

DS \---> EH: Yes you fucking twat. 

EH \---> DS: You have to keep this a secret though!

DS \---> EH: Fine, you ass. 

EH \---> DS: remember that Dirk has hated you for years but only me for a short time. Now suddenly he’s flying over to your place with new godly powers. Just take care of yourself ):

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** has ceased **private messaging dogsarereallyfuckinggreatlikeholyShit [DS]**!  [11:39AM]

  
  


DS: Navo I’m finding myself hating you less than the rest. Mainly because you haven’t killed my dog or antagonised me for the last few years. 

CC: thank you rory

DS: I operate on strict rules. You don’t hate on me, I don’t hate on you. You be nice to me, I be nice to you. 

DS: Unless you’ve committed an unspeakable crime. 

DS: Like murdering my fucking dog. 

EH: I did it out of love

EH: and out of the thirst for knowledge

DS: You’re heartless. 

CC: the tides are strong today

DS: Stay safe. 

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** ’s computer is now **being swallowed by the waves**!  [11:41AM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

God damn it. 

She goes inside to Alchemite another one. 

  
  


DS: Oh well, the only tolerable person online has left. 

DS: I’m assuming Ali is offline. 

DS: I better prepare for my guest. 

  
  


**dogsarereallyfuckinggreatlikeholyShit [DS]** is now **Offline!** [11:41AM]

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now N **o longer idle!** [11:47AM]

  
  


VP: Sorry about that. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online!** [12:21AM]

  
  


ER: one death was enough. 

ER: im not eager to experience more. 

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online with a new computer**!  [12:43PM]

  
  


CC: i made a new computer

ER: mm. if you want to kill me again, ill be over on rorys planet... whatever it is. 

CC: I don’t want to kill you I want to talk with you

ER: good. 

ER: i think i may have burned myself out on the whole misanthropy thing. 

ER: i dont want to fight any of you. 

CC: I’m not gonna fight

CC: the tides have settles, so I can fly again

CC: safely, that is

VP: Good. Pacifism is the correct route. 

ER: thank you, ali. i think thats the right path here. 

CC: in some instances

VP: You’re welcome. Also, I formally apologize for going overboard and plotting your demise. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali Bradford massages her temple. 

_Make a mark._

_Make a LEGACY._

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]**!  [12:44PM]

  


ER \---> CC: im worried devon is going to try to kill me again. 

CC \---> ER: really

ER \---> CC: im worried he might be able to convince some of the others. 

CC \---> ER: he already has. 

ER \---> CC: see? so i dont think he and i can coexist but i dont want to kill him again. 

CC \---> ER: just calm down about it. he’s immortal anyway

ER \---> CC: who says hes immortal??? he does. i dont trust him or his information. 

CC \---> ER: cruela says he is. we all are. minus Rory

ER \---> CC: dont let him kill me, navo. i dont want any more death in this game. 

CC \---> ER: he won’t. 

CC \---> ER: I promise.

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** has ceased **private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]**! [12:46PM]

  
  


**dogsarereallyfuckinggreatlikeholyShit [DS]** is now **Online!** [12:59PM]

  
  


DS: See, this is what I was trying to tell you guys. 

ER: can rorys planet be a ceasefire ground???

DS: I wouldn’t wish it to be anything else. 

CC: what is rorys planet anyway? 

ER: what does it look like??? im hovering above the white and black center right now, but i dont know which one to go to. 

CC: my planet is 90% water

DS: It’s the Land of Something and Whatever, according to my guide. 

DS: I never explored it. 

DS: I don’t really care???

DS: About my planet, that is. 

CC: land of pirates and rocks over here

CC: should be land of water and waves

ER: ill just visit the ones that arent alis, navos, or mine. 

CC: yes you do that

CC: unless you want a plane

DS: From what I can see outside, my land looks like a blank sheet. Perhaps with dots of colour in the distance. It’s boring. 

DS: Of course you could just look for the one with the house surrounded by imps. 

VP: Surrounded by dog imps? 

DS: Yes. 

VP: I assumed. 

CC: you know what I just realized? 

DS: I may or may not have built an actual city for them. 

CC: we have dog killer dogs

CC: have fun with that, the imps are going to kill each other

DS: Oh, no, the Cruella imps are outlawed. 

VP: Navo show some respect. 

CC: hey it’s true

DS: They kept trying to start infights. 

CC: cruela shows no mercy

CC: my guide is killing all the imps for me

DS: Lucily a sizeable population of the dogs are Cruella-mutation-free. 

CC: cruela is great

CC: just admit it

DS: However. 

DS: Satan-Eldritch-Dogs are welcome in my village.

CC: I've been meaning to throw in the plush Ursula doll into my guide as well

CC: how do you think that would go? 

DS: I don’t think that would affect the imps. 

VP: Could someone possibly come to my living space? I’m feeling rather solitary at the moment and would like some company. 

DS: For example, I programmed Blitz’s kernelsprite once before we entered, and then once again with... something else, after we entered. 

DS: What I did after-entrance didn't affect the imps. 

CC: never said it would

CC: I mean in terms of my guide

DS: That would probably make it hate fish as well. 

VP: Sorry for interrupting; my bad. 

CC: but how do you think cruela De Ville and Ursula would get along?? 

CC: or should I program something else?? 

DS: They’re both Disney villains I’m sure they’d get along just peachy. 

CC: I guess?? but I dunno I don’t want to ruin my guide

VP: program something affectionate to balance out your evil. 

CC: soooooo my Cinderella doll??

CC: don’t ask why I have a bunch of Disney plush

VP: Do you have anything Belle related? She is a kind soul. 

CC: yeah I got a doll of belle

DS: JACKSKELLINGDOG is adorable, by the way. I wish you to meet him one day. 

VP: Fantastic! Add Belle to the guide!

CC: but cruela though

CC: I mean, Bella fucks dogs, cruella kills them...

VP: Just don’t touch it. That would be bad. 

DS: Would that make a Cruella De Belle?

CC: I don’t know

DS: Or a Cruebella guide? 

CC: Ima do it

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The Belle doll makes contact with Cruela. 

Cruella de Belle is formed.

  
  


CC: I did it

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk lands outside of a house crowded by dog-like creatures, if not dogs themselves, and, on second thought, flies up onto the roof. 

  
  


ER: i think im on the roof, rory. 

DS: I’ll get Jack Skellingdog to bring you down.

VP: Oh! Might I come too? To your house, Rory?

DS: Sure, let’s all congregate at my house.

VP: Great!

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Offline!** [1:01PM]

  
  


A skeletal, dog-like guide wearing Jack Skellington’s clothing floats up toward Dirk. 

"What’s up," Dirk says, gravely monotonous. "I like your suit." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali hops off of her computer and changes out of her pajama-like get-up. She really fucking hates yellow, even pastel. She hasn’t been wearing her hair up since she died, and, honestly, she sees no reason to. 

Upon picking up her trusty wings, she also spots an unopened soda. It’s warm, but that doesn’t stop her from taking a sip. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The guide barks at Dirk, equally grave, tail wagging. 

"Lead on." 

The guide picks Dirk up with some type of strange energy, then teleports into Rory’s bedroom and drops Dirk there. It’s just as if he’s playing fetch. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Lastly, she makes sure to close the front door on her way out. Then - _WHOOSH!_ \- off she goes through the gates!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk stands there, tense. After a few seconds of silence, he speaks. "If Devon suggests that he come, will you let him?" 

"Hell no. If you ever commit an Unforgivable Crime, my house is off-limits." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali flies around until she sees a house surrounded by Skelly-dogs. Rory was right. They are pretty cute. She touches down and politely knocks on the front door. "Anybody home?" 

  


Meanwhile: 

"There’s Ali, probably." Dirk sighs, rubbing at his eyes. "I don't think we can sleep anymore. I'm kinda tired..."

  


Meanwhile: 

The door opens, and a wave of skeletal dog-imps burst out, barking excitedly and nudging Ali toward Rory’s room. 

  


Meanwhile: 

"Is Navo coming?" Dirk asks. "Do you know?"

"Okay!" floats Ali’s voice from down the hall, "Okay!" Behind her, the door shuts, the Heir having been nudged into the room by canine imps. "By the way," she says, entering the room, "I agree whole-heartedly." 

"Greetings, Ali," says Rory. 

"Thank god you’re okay," Dirk mumbles. 

"Good afternoon! At least, it was afternoon on my planet." She recognizes Dirk; assumes the other is Rory. 

Dirk buries his face in his hands for a moment and takes the time to just moan. 

"I see you’ve met the dogs," comments Rory unhelpfully. 

"I have! I love them!" 

"What do we _do_ about this?" Dirk laments. 

"About what, Dirk?" Ali asks innocently. She can’t seem to find a suitable chair, so she just crosses her legs and sits on the ground. _No biggie._ _Yet._

"I…" A pained expression flits across his face. "There’s no way Devon’s going to leave us alone, right? Especially not with Rory forbidding him from his house." 

"Devon will learn his boundaries in time," Ali reassures him. "Don’t fret." 

"You can all just stay here forever. I’ll just build more rooms in my Dog Hotel," Rory adds. 

"Oh," says Ali. "Thanks, Rory, but the dog hair is starting to…" She lets ou ACHOO. Oh, she hopes that was quieter than it seemed.

"Oh, dear me," Rory says. "You’re allergic." 

"I am? I never had - " _ACHOO_ \- " a pet, so I wouldn’t have known." 

"Not to deny your safehouse access," Rory says, "but if you’re allergic, you may not be able to stay here… I assume there are consort villages on my land. I’m sure they’d be more than welcoming." 

"No, no! I can handle it!" ACHOO! _Drat_. "Dirk, could you hand me a tissue? My nose is running." 

Dirk hands her a tissue. 

"Thanks!" She wipes her nose. Gosh, the dogs are cute, but then again - allergen. One of the dogs, this one with ram horns and tentacles, floats ominously toward her. 

"Satandog," Dirk comments, adding nothing whatsoever to the narrative. 

"Do you dogs normally float?" Ali inquires. A tentacle emerges from the dog’s undernest and releases the bottle entwined within it: allergen-suppressant pills. "Aw! Thank you!" She takes the dog-provided suppressant. Meanwhile, Dirk quietly climbs onto Rory’s bed and lies down. 

"So… What do you wanna talk about? I think I might have a deck of cards in my pocket if either of you like card games!" proclaims Ali. 

"I’m going to try to sleep," Dirk mumbles, pulling the blankets over him. 

"I think it’s time for me to go walk the dogs… Dr. Woofclaw here will make sure you don’t sneeze yourself to death." 

"Alright! Thank you!" 

With a sharp _Stay!_ to Woofclaw to ensure he doesn't follow, Rory leaves Dirk and Ali to themselves.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On Prospit, Devon sighs, flying back to his planet, phone in hand. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeritic [EH]** is now **Online!** [1:21PM]

  
  


EH: what’s new? Any more dead people? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On LOSAI, Ali’s phone buzzes.

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [1:21PM]

  
  


VP: No, No one has died, thankfully. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Inactive!** [1:21PM]

  
  


EH: well then what’s going on? 

VP: We’re all hanging out. 

EH: who? 

VP: Dirk, Rory, and myself. 

EH: !!!

EH: what!?

EH: you mean the crazies!?

VP: Thats rather uncalled for. 

EH: well one caused all the murders

EH: and the other threatened to kill me

EH: so forgive me for being less than polite

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **No longer i** **nactive!** [1:21PM]

  


ER: YOU caused all the murders. 

EH: ...

VP: We have all made our mistakes, Devon. 

ER: you didnt exactly DISCOURAGE them, did you???

ER: dont pretend youre innocent in all this. 

EH: I didn’t kill anyone until attacked though

ER: excuse me??? you attacked me first!!

VP: Devon. Stop. 

VP: You too, Dirk. 

EH: I threatened you but you attacked me first

EH: if I wanted you dead I could have killed you in your sleep

ER: you said it was "time to die"!!

EH: whatever

EH: you did make me a god

ER: youre welcome. 

EH: so I can forgive

EH: I’ll start a new sheet with you

EH: more or less

ER: ...okay. 

VP: I still don’t like to glorify the god part. 

EH: it’s the gentlemanly thing to do

EH: has Rory become a god yet?

VP: No. 

EH: I’ll be over there soon enough. We need to talk as a group anyway. Promise I won’t do any murdering as long as you can do the same

ER: who told you we were immortal, by the way???

EH: Mr. Card

VP: Rory seemed pretty strict about your restriction from the house. 

EH: he said you can die though

EH: something about a clock and Heros and Justness

ER: ...he said that YOURE immortal but I can die???

ER: why???

EH: no everyone can die

EH: it’s just highly unlikely

ER: ...not very useful immortality, then, is it? 

EH: I’d prefer to explain more in person but Rory has banned me

ER: i happen to relate. 

ER: besides, its his house, he can govern as he wishes.

  
  


**dogsarereallyfuckinggreatlikeholyShit [DS]** is now **briefly online**!  [1:23PM]

  
  


EH: Rory

DS: Never speak to me again Devon. 

EH: fine

EH: same goes for you

VP: Devon we can talk at my house if everyone would like to meet there instead of at Rory’s. 

  
  


**dogsarereallyfuckinggreatlikeholyShit [DS]** is now **Offline!** [1:24PM]

  
  


ER: is that the new plan, ali? 

VP: Sure. Meet at my front door. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **changing locations**!  [1:24PM]

  
  


"I’m not going. FaceTime me or something." 

  
  


EH: I’d prefer the meet-up at my house

EH: I’d feel safe that way

  
  


"No, Dirk." Ali shoves the phone into her pocket, scowling. "You have to come. 

"Devon’s insisting it be at his house so he feels ‘safe’. Hell no." 

  
  


EH: guys?

EH: hello? 

ER: hello. 

EH: so yes at my house? 

  
  


"I’m afraid of him, Ali. I don’t trust him yet." 

"I don’t care what he says, we’re all going to _my_ house and that’s final!" 

  
  


ER: id prefer it to be on more neutral territory. 

EH: ... 

ER: alis house. 

EH: fair enough. 

EH: nobody can bring weapons though

  
  


"What’s he saying?" 

"Are you offline? He says it can be at your house. I still don’t know if I should go…" 

"Dirk, let’s go," Ali prompts, grabbing his wrist. 

"Listen, Ali," Dirk says, keeping still against her grip. "You have to promise me something if I’m going to go over there." 

"Anything." 

  
  


EH: hello!?

EH: my god

ER: yes, well be right over.

EH: No weapons correct? 

  
  


"If he attacks me, you try to kill him. No excuses in his stead. If he initializes violence, he needs to be gone." 

  
  


ER: of course. 

EH: alright. Sounds good

  
  


"Understood." 

"Let’s go." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon isn’t going to go without protection; his dice reside safely tucked away in his hood. He doesn’t plan on using them, of course - he’s a man of honor and chivalry - but it’s better to be safe. 

  
  


ER: coming. 

  
  


Devon takes to the air. 

  
  


EH: same

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **f** **lying**!  [1:28PM]

  
  


Soon Devon is at Ali’s house, patiently waiting by the door. When Ali arrives at the front door to open it for Devon, it’s easy to see that she’s opted to take her wings, though she’s god-tier. Behind him, Dirk lands, tensing as he sees Devon… 

  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Idle** **!** [1:29PM]

  


"Hello," Ali greets. 

"Hello! Did Rory come?"

"He’ll be on his way." 

"Rory’s elsewhere for now," Dirk chimes in, "but I think he’ll be here later." 

"Let’s talk inside." Ali pushes gently past Devon (who scoffs) to get to the doorway, walk to her kitchen, and get to work preparing tea. 

"Shall I explain the circumstances of death," Devon wonders innocently, following her inside, "or go to a happier subject?"

"Ground rules are always good," Ali says.

"It’s pretty simple. You can’t die a Just or Heroic death. This magic clock determines if it’s Just or Heroic. It isn’t easy to determine what is and isn’t Just or Heroic… the game decides." 

"Really?" Ali asks. She pours some arbitrary measure of water into a cup. 

"So if you attack someone evil and die… well, you can’t," Dirk summarizes. "And if you’re evil and someone’s trying to kill you, it won’t happen." 

"Oh… and you can’t kill players with suns on their outfits or you lose the whole session." _I have to defend myself_. "The session apparently relies on my survival." 

"...oh." Dirk peers at Devon, though not in hostility. It’s more cautious than suspicious. 

"Hold on," Ali says. "Back it up. Our session fails without you, Devon?" 

"Apparently," Devon agrees, shrugging helplessly. "The sun on my outfit signifies that." 

"All I had were wings," Ali grumbles. "That and an _awful_ color scheme." 

"Oh! All the different symbols mean different things." 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging dogsarereallygreatlikeholyShit [DS]!** [1:33PM]

  
  


ER \---> DS: devon says the game cant be won without him. 

  
  


Dirk frowns. "I assumed mine just reflected the way I died." 

"What are wings?" Ali says eagerly. 

"I didn’t bother to learn yours," Devon says. "I'm not sure Mr. Card knows. But mine represents luck, fortune, and magic shit. Pardon my French." 

"Oh." Ali stirs the water, disappointed.

Dirk raises an eyebrow, and Devon shrugs.

"I figured there were more important things to deal with, for now." 

"And your guide told you all of this?" Dirk queries. 

"Effectively." 

"Earl grey or green?" says Ali. "Also, pick a mug." She gestures toward the cabinet. "I didn’t wash your last one yet, Dev."

"Don't call me Dev." 

"Ali," Dirk says, turning to her. "Do you have your guide?" 

"He's upstairs. We haven't been talking much." 

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging vividParadox [VP]!** [1:34PM]

  
  


ER \---> VP: ask your guide about our symbols when you get a chance.

  


"He's kind of gone a lot. He did give me this token, though – " 

"Actually, I’m not thirsty," Devon interrupts, eyeing Dirk suspiciously. "Using your phone, Dirk? In public? Rude." 

"Yes," Dirk says, paying no attention, "rudeness is what’s important here." 

Devon's lips purse.

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [1:35PM]

  
  


Ali pulls out her phone. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [1:35PM]

  
  


VP: How do you do, Tom? 

EH: Tom, come to Ali’s house

EH: I’m explaining our immortality

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Inactive!** [1:35PM]

  
  


EH: or be rude

  
  


**dogsarereallygreatlikeholyShit [DS]** is now **Online!** [1:35PM]

  
  


EH: you’re missing an important conversation Rory. 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **silentShunner [SS]** **!** [1:35PM]

  
  


DS: So you’re all at Ali’s now, I take it? 

EH: yes

EH: for once can’t we be civil

EH: come over

  
  


**silentShunner [SS]** is now **idle and I tried to be civil once but then everyone ignored me and died!**!  [1:36PM]

  
  


DS: You are the only one to have committed an Unspeakable Act, Devon. 

EH: me?!?!

DS: Yes. 

EH: I DIDNT SHOOT MY GIRLFRIEND AFTER I CHEATED ON HER!!!

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **back from the dead**!  [1:36PM]

  
  


CC: what about me? 

EH: NOR DID I MURDER SAID CHEATER

DS: That’s not unspeakable, although it is rather rude. 

EH: NOR DID I KILL THE GIRL

DS: Poor Navo deserved better. 

EH: NOR DID I KILL THE ONE HE WAS CHEATING WITH

  
  


**SilentShunner** is now **idle and He didn’t kill her you idiot, I killed her after she killed Dirk**!  [1:36PM]

  
  


DS: But it isn’t unspeakable. 

EH: WHY AM I GETTING BLAMED!!?

EH: TOMMASO I KNOW YOURE READING THIS

DS: I’m not blaming you for the murders, Jesus fucking Christ. 

EH: I TRY TO BE NICE AND EXPLAIN YOUR MORTALITY

EH: but suddenly i did an unspeakable act? 

EH: if I wasn’t in the presence of others I would throw my phone

DS: IM NOT BLAMING YOU FOR THE MURDERS YOU HALFBRAINED FUCKWIT!

EH: but you say I’m the only one who did an unspeakable crime

DS: Yes. 

  


**silentShunner [SS]** is now **idle and sorry to Navo because she isn’t an insufferable prick {unlike Devon)**!  [1:37PM]

  
  


EH: Tommaso shut your face

VP: Can we all calm down. This wasn’t Devon’s fault. How about we just come to my house and have some tea? 

EH: I saved Dirk when you couldn’t

ER: pay attention, devon. he calls killing his dog an unspeakable crime. 

DS: Yes. 

EH: oh my god

EH: THATS IT

DS: Yes. 

  
  


**silentShunner [SS]** is now **idle and sure that someone will just explain to him the immortality anyway**!  [1:38PM]

  
  


ER: i will.

  
  


"THAT’S IT?" Devon practically screams. "THAT’S WHY HE IS SO MAD?!"

"Yes, Devon," Dirk sighs, rubbing his eyes. "He’s explained it a number of times." 

"Devon," Ali says, "calm down."

  
  


EH: I quit with you all. 

CC: GUYS

DS: Yes, Navo? 

  
  


"What are you going to do?" Dirk wonders mockingly. "What does it mean to ‘quit’?" 

  
  


EH: I don’t know what I did to Tommaso besides dislike the fact he types like a drunkard so I can’t believe he’s teaming up on me. 

CC: SHUT UP!!!

  
  


"Just stay in your house the whole time instead of interacting with any of us?" Dirk again. 

"Yes! If I could," Devon says, "I would. Perhaps I’ll just cry and get over it but I’m not weak like that." 

"You think crying makes one weak?" Ali. 

  
  


DS: Alright.

VP: Everyone, please just come to my house. I’ll make more tea. We can talk about this. 

  
  


"Of course!" Devon. 

"Thanks." Dirk. 

  
  


CC: I’m real tired

DS: :) I’m happy you’re safe Navo, and that you didn’t die via waves. And maybe you should take a rest if you’re tired.

EH: please rest Navo

CC: We can't sleep, Devon

  
  


"Crying shows weakness. It’s a biological sign of weakness." 

"Then…" Ali steps out from behind the kitchen doorway (or, rather, the bathroom doorway). "Do you think I am weak?" 

"Are you surprised, Ali?" Dirk says primly. 

  
  


EH: None of your hatred of me isn’t totally justified

ER: ...you realize the inverse of that is that all of our hatred for you is totally justified.

EH: I AM SO MAD YOU ARE MAKING ME MESS UP MY LANGUAGE SKILLS

DS: Shush, Devon. Let’s be civil now.

  
  


**silentShunner [SS]** is now **You killed Dirk and youre a complete dick to me** **about** **my problem** **s** **!**!  [1:41PM]

  
  


Dirk shakes his head in disgust. "I’m leaving." 

Ali rushes forward. "Don’t leave!" 

Standing in the doorway, Dirk turns to Ali. "Why not, Ali? This isn’t getting us anywhere." 

"Dirk," Devon says, "for once my anger isn’t directed at you. Please stay." 

"Dirk," Ali says. "Please. Just don’t leave." 

"...fine. But I’m staying over here." Dirk leans against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Devon sighs heavily. "Ali, you are not weak." 

"But I cry all the time." 

"That’s different. You’re a girl." 

"So what if I’m a girl?" 

"Oh my god," Dirk mutters, nudging his earl grey away from him, undrunk. 

"A gentleman isn’t allowed to."

"Jesus Christ," Dirk says, shaking his head. "Virgin Mary." 

  
  


**silentShunner [SS]** is now **I** **nactive**!  [1:42PM]

  
  


"Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?" Devon insists helplessly. 

"Praise Muhammad," Dirk comments, picking at his fingernails. 

"If I was a boy," Ali says slowly, "would you shun me for crying as much as I do?" 

"Oh my Buddha." 

"Perhaps," says Devon, carefully, "depending on the situation." 

"Nathaniel Hawthorne." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Abled with some Voidy semblance of sleep through some Voidy magics, Tommaso converses with the Dark Gods. He trusts them more than anyone else at the moment. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali approaches Dirk slowly, rigidly, who watches in apprehension as she nods to him with an ersatz smile, retrieves his mug of grey, and turns slowly to Devon, looking more thoughtful than controlled (if looking rather controlled). In a quick motion, her arm shoots up and tea splashes at Devon. Fast reactions, Devon barely manages to duck out of the way. 

"Ali!" Dirk says, both shocked and gleeful. 

"What the hell?" demands Devon. " _Civil?_ " 

"Sexist?" shoots Ali. 

"It isn’t sexist! It’s biology! It’s the gentlemanly code!" 

"Well, shit, I didn't know there was a code," Dirk mutters, picking at his fingernails. 

"Yes, there’s a code! Ali, you are a powerful girl. I’m not questioning that." 

Dirk goes to make himself more tea. 

  
  


DS: Well, I’m going offline. Navo, if you’re still here, try not to tire yourself by getting involved in all this drama. You’re always welcome at my house, love. 

  
  


"It’s what I grew up with!" Devon insists. 

"I grew up with childhood neglect and a severe lack of parental love!" calls Dirk from the kitchen. "Doesn’t mean I intend to pass it on." 

"Devon," Ali whispers, "just…" She turns heel and flees to her room. 

"Oh, good," Dirk mutters, sipping his tea. "That’s good, that is." 

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **probably crying in a corner. or a plane.**!  [1:43PM]

  
  


EH: good bye!

DS: ... 

DS: <3

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"See you!" Devon calls. "I’ll keep all vital info to myself, since nobody _likes_ me! Good _effing_ bye!" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Somewhere on LOPAR, Navo hops into a plane, much more somberly than the word 'hops' might otherwise imply. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Hey, I’m not the one who ran out," Dirk points out. 

Devon storms out of the house, slamming the door behind him. He’s now flying back to his land, totally infuriated. 

"See you." 

Dirk shakes his head. _I hope that's not what I'm like..._

  
  


**dogsaregreatlikeholyShit [DS]** is now **Offline!** [1:43PM]

  
  


"Is he gone?" Ali yells downstairs. 

Dirk takes a moment to finish his tea and heads upstairs. "Yes, thank god." 

  
  


EH: I wish you’d all just go away. Why can’t anyone in this session be /civil/ or /polite/!

ER: perhaps you should try regarding the sexes as equal. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo flies circles around Skaia, bypassing planet after planet until they're all a (metaphorical) blur, not really paying attention to where she’s flying. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"You should ask your guide about what he said," Dirk advises. 

"Okay." Ali’s voice is muffled beneath her blanket fort. 

  
  


EH: I DO! In different ways

ER: different is not equal. equal is equal.

EH: would that imply sharing bathrooms? 

ER: thatd be fine with me. 

EH: and creating mixed sports teams.

ER: oh, no. not that. 

EH: well that’s equal

ER: yes, devon, it IS equal.

ER: thats kind of the point.

  
  


**silentShunner [SS]** is now **Online and what happened?**!  [1:45PM]

  
  


ER: devon thinks boys who cry are weak and girls who do it are just being girls. 

EH: well not exactly like that!!!!

EH: I just meant

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In a plane, by the way. She’s in the plane. 

  
  


EH: men are supposed to be the strong ones right? Girls can be strong too

EH: but it isn’t expected

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"M'Lassie!" Ali calls. "Come here!" A dog looking rather… odd with the fedora on his head floats over. "What does the symbol on my shirt mean?" 

The guide looks at her for a time, a creature impossible to kill, its construction built of necessity, its intelligent eyes calculating. 

It snatches a rhinestone necklace from her dresser and makes a mad dash for the next room. 

  
  


ER: courtesy and comfort should be extended to all people. 

  
  


**silentShunner [SS]** is now **Idle and hahahahaha**!  [1:45PM]

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging silentShunner [SS]**!  [1:46PM]

  
  


ER \---> SS: id like to talk to you soon. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"It just steals shiny things, Dirk." 

  
  


**silentShunner [SS]** is now **Idle and why aren’t you guys talking using your voices!** [1:46PM]

  
  


EH: I left

ER: a boy crying doesnt make him weak when a girl crying is to be "expected".

  
  


**silentShunner [SS]** is now **Idle and going to Ali’s house!**!  [1:46PM]

  
  


EH: whatever

EH: but biologically speaking

EH: men should be the providers

EH: and don’t have time to cry

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo lands on a random planet. Pick your poison, people. 

  
  


EH: forget it

EH: whatever

ER: sounds good to me. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"What’s everyone saying, Dirk? You’re typing kinda furiously over there." 

  
  


EH: if I could make things easier for you I would

  
  


"We’re arguing about Devon’s misogynistic tendencies." 

  
  


EH: if I could eliminate my self from the session I would

  
  


"Okay." 

  
  


ER: then do it.

  


Meanwhile: 

Your name is Tommaso Mambelli and you are standing at Ali’s door, since apparently that’s where Ali and Dirk are. 

  


EH: I QUIT WITH TRYING TO ASSIST YOU!

  


Knock knock. 

  


ER: good. go home and stay there. 

  


Meanwhile: 

"Dirk," says Ali, upstairs. "Get the door." 

Dirk gets the door. 

  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **burning down his land**!  [1:47PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Hey," you say. 

"Hey," Dirk replies. He stands there, staring at you for a few seconds, then shuffles away, leaving the door open.

"Who is it?" calls a voice from upstairs. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon Hart's soles are dirtied with multicolored dust as he steps, his anger dissipating – or, rather, distilling into something colder. His little pink Komodos leap around him, competing for attention with a little more fervor than usual. _They look worried. Like they can sense something wicked is coming._ Devon sighs, leans down, and picks one up, holding it to his chest. _Ew._ Slimy. He doesn't regret it. _Trying to distract me, to help me..._

"If only the rest of my team was like you." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Hi Ali!" You step inside. "It’s Tom." 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Offline but not burning his land**!  [1:47PM]

  
  


"Come upstairs," Ali suggests. "I made a fort." 

Dirk pauses just inside the doorway. "I need to… think," he tells you. "I'm going outside. I’ll be right up." 

You nod, tracking his shaky hand (just one) and distracted eyes (deep hazel), and go upstairs. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Outside, Navo disembarks from her plane. For once, her title isn’t Prince of Planes.

Outside, Dirk hovers above the land, staring up at the celestial bodies of gamespace. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"It’s blankets," Ali explains. "Isn’t it cool?" 

"Yeah," you agree, laying down in the fort. "I figured that was what it would be, is blankets." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo Clubb sits atop an aeroplane, looking up at the sky. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"So, how has your day been? Please don’t mention dying or god things…" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Bestia, bestia," Dirk says, snickering at the doublespeak. Navo is just on the other side of the house, too far away to hear. 

"Vocas?" says a familiar, rumbling voice as it pops out of inexistence. 

"Scire res volo." _I want to know things._

"Et nunc pactum tu facies cum bestias." _And now you will forge a pact with a beast._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Because Navo is Navo, she throws a rock into the sky.

Because gravity is gravity, the rock smacks back down into the plane, denting the metal. 

_Shit_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Qui res meus vis?" _What things of mine do you want?_

The beast appears to mull this over. 

"Devonae vita?" Dirk suggests. _Devon’s life?_

The beast laughs. "Me fide, puer: res plus scio quam tu. Minime sufficiet Devonae vita me." _Trust me, boy: I know more things than you. By no means will Devon’s life satisfy me._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Amor meus ob Tommaso." _My affection for Tommaso._

"Minime! Per rem tu patieris videbo." _Hardly! Through that affair I will see you suffer_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo sighs and slumps inside in avoidance of breaking windows with flying stone projectiles. _At least I can't get arrested now._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Sacrifica spritae amicorum." _Sacrifice your friends’ guides._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Upstairs!" 

"Okay, thanks!" Navo takes the stairs two at a time.

"Oh, hi, Navo!" you exclaim as she appears in the doorway. 

  


Meanwhile: 

"Scire tu omnia cognitio volo. Aenigmata minime, sutelae minime, et fines minime." _I_ _want to know everything you know._ _No riddles, no clever strategems, and no limits._

  


"Hey, Tom, hey, Ali." 

"Dirk is outside," Ali informs her. "Just a heads up." 

"I didn’t see him," Navo says. "I was up on my plane, but only for a second…" 

  


Meanwhile: 

"Pactio excellens," the beast laughs, and from him extends a lone tentacle, quivering before Dirk. 

  


Meanwhile: 

"Strange," Ali says. "Come sit in the fort!" 

"Yeah, come on!" you join in, moving over to make space. 

"Not like I want to see him anyway…" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Pactus." Dirk extends his hand, gripping the slimy appendage. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"So," Ali says, "how were your days? Please don’t mention dying or godly things." 

"Nothing much happened. I’m just chatting with the gods over here. The ones over Derse," you clarify at her questioninglook.

"Derse has gods? Prospit doesn’t." 

"Oh, that’s weird." 

"Well, I’ve been destroying planes," Navo interjects, and you suppress a smile at her distraction from the topic at hand. You have a feeling that the others wouldn't take terribly kindly to the Dark Gods if they perceived them in the same way that you did... but only because of bad judgment. Dark is not evil. The Gods have granted you information you'd never have known without them, and... _Everything happens for a reason_. The corners of your lips rise deliberately. You are the hero. _I can win this..._

"Sinking them in giant waves is also fun," she continues, oblivious,and the world keeps turning. (Does it? How does the gamespace even work?) "It gets out anger." 

Your name is Tommaso Mambelli, and you will get your loved ones through this, no matter what must happen.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In a flash, Satan disappears, and information floods Dirk’s mind. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom sighs. "Do you think it’s possible to get everyone on the same team again?" 

"I doubt it, Tom." Navo sighs and falls back into the fort, and miraculously avoids collapsing the travesty of pillowy architecture. 

"Not possible at all," Ali adds. _Yes, analysis, psychobabble, I know what I'm doing._ "Oh, shit! I’m such a terrible host. Would either of you care for tea?" 

"Yes, please!" You are very courteous when you're pretending someone didn't _literally kill you_. 

"Nah," Navo negates. "I haven’t been hungry or thirsty for a while…" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Oh my god…" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali rushes downstairs to pour the water, already heated in its electric kettle. God she loves that electric kettle. One day, when she grows up, she’s going to marry that electric kettle. "Earl grey or green?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk re-enters. "Still upstairs?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo tenses.

  


Meanwhile: 

"Yeah!" Tom calls down, his voice faint. "Navo’s up here, too!" 

  


Meanwhile: 

"Damn it, Tom!" Navo whispers, about as loudly as can possibly be done while still calling it a 'whisper'. 

"Shush," Tom whispers back. "I doubt he’ll come up if he knows you’re here." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk reaches the top of the stairs, not yet inside the bedroom, talking as he climbs. "I know what your symbol means, Ali. Your costume, too - it’s different from ours, isn’t it?" Then he enters the room and stills as he sees Tom and Navo.

There is a silence. 

"Hello, Navo," Dirk says. 

"I chose green!" Ali yells as she ascends the stairwell. 

"H \- Hey." Navo looks down at her shirt. Despite the sudden entrance of her... ex? She can't help wondering: _What in the hell is this tragedy of a color scheme I'm wearing?_

Dirk moves aside so that Ali can enter the room. She hands Tom the tea, the cup spilling more than a couple drops as she tries her best to ignore the tension in the room, but no one comments. Ali sits down next to Dirk and next to Navo, so that Tommaso faces her.

Ali's heart is racing. _Answers_. Maybe they really do have a chance to beat this game. Whatever the reward is, it has to be worth something... _I can leave a legacy._

Tom's heart is racing. _Answers_. What if the Gods are lying to him? What if _Dirk_ is lying to him? What if it turns out that no one can be saved, or that Tommaso will be the first one to die, or Dirk? Not that he values either of them more than anyone else in their game – well, maybe he values Devon less – but – 

"You’re an Heir of Hope," Dirk says to the girl on his left, her burgundy hair a careless bun framing emerald eyes. "Faith and belief and optimism, they all... favor you, kind of. They guard you. You're saved by them." 

"Oh, wow." _That's a little underwhelming._

"Sounds like Ali!" Navo says, smiling nervously. 

"And the god-tiers, they come with abilities, powers of a sort... _magic_ , almost– "

"Amazing," Tommaso says, his eyes sparkling. " _Fucking_... magic. Guys, are you all hearing this too?" (His arms, waving, knock over a forgotten teacup, but no one cares.) "We can... I mean, we have a chance!" 

"What powers do I get?" Ali says eagerly, bouncing in her seat. 

"I’m not sure what they’d be for you. I, um, Satan didn't tell me. He said something like – like specific cases are unknowable, and that he only knew statistics and generalities, like classes or aspects, not classpects. I'll explain that later," he says hurriedly as two others open their mouths to ask (and the beautiful girl with the intricate locks and an unbelievably tiny waist stays silent). "For Heirs, it’s mostly passive or circumstantial stuff. Though I know this for sure: you can become a physical embodiment of Hope, whatever that would look like." 

"Oh…" Ali’s eyes fall.

"That sounds badass," Tommaso assures.

"Everyone will want to keep you alive, if that helps," Dirk appends. "You’re, um, protected by belief, by hope and faith. People will always have faith in you." 

"Oh!" Ali exclaims, perking. 

"Do me next, do me next!" Tom insists, his whole body bouncing and buzzing with electric excitement. 

"Tom…" Dirk peers at him, quieting as he remembers the beast’s ominous words. "You’re the Mage of Void. It means you - " Dirk stops, then continues to speak, mechanically, as if having memorized the words by heart. "You benefit yourself with complete understanding of ignorance, secrets, and nothing, but you’re also harmed by it. Also, you can basically do magic shit with Void." 

"Ah, okay, that makes sense." 

"Make things disappear, maybe; make it impossible for someone to tell a lie while you’re there, or maybe just be able to detect it..." 

"Especially…" Tommaso lets himself trail off, realizing what's been said. ' _Ignorance, secrets, and nothing... you're harmed by it.' Yeah, I can see that._

"You didn’t…" Dirk says, stumbling over his words into the phrase. "You didn’t know me and Navo were dating." 

Navo looks down. 

"Oh," you say quietly. Yeah. _And_ _I_ _died because of_ _i_ _t._

"And Navo…" Dirk opts to look at a particularly interesting spot of carpet, rather than his gi – rather than Navo. "You’re the Thief of Life. You steal growth, experience, and life energies from those around you in order to benefit yourself." 

_There's no way he's doing this on accident._ Navo thinks. _God damn it!_

His voice adopts a more monotonous nature. "You tend to be extremely egotistical, believing you can do everything better than anyone else." 

Ali inches further into the back of her fort. Across from her, Tommaso follows suit. 

"Sorry," Dirk says. "I’m not trying to… This is just what I found!" he exclaims, wiping his forehead with one gloved hand and grunting frustratedly, almost a growl, almost a purr. "Anyway… the point that we should know is that you could be _unconditionally immortal_. The rest of us, the rest of us have conditional immortality, we can die if it’s _Just_ or _Heroic_. But as long as you have someone near you whose Life you can steal, you’ll live." 

Navo glares at the ground. _I am so much better than this._

"I’m…" Dirk almost chokes., but regains himself. "I’m a Prince of Blood. I destroy relationships, bonds, I don’t really tend to understand them." 

"Y'know," Navo says heatedly, her eyes raising his, I always thought there was a chance I might be the bad guy. I just didn't realize I would _still_ be the villain after my boyfriend cheated on and _shot_ me." 

"The bad guy?" Dirk says scornfully, but still avoids matching Navo's stare. "No. Thieves tend to be egotistical, they tend to think they’re better than everyone else, but you don’t seem to, in my opinion. You have potential. What do _I_ do? I destroy all my relationships. What a great role  to play. Oh, and I also destroy through my relationships. So every time I form a bond with anyone it’ll be used for harm." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Somewhere, somewhen, a clock strikes 12. 


	10. Supercalifragilistic (Part One)

Wednesday, November 11, 2015: Part 1

"At least you fit your title," Navo scoffs. "I – I'm supposed to be wearing a _mask_." 

"The game doesn’t assign wrong titles." Dirk is sure on this one; his voice, strong. 

"Well," Navo says (not without some vitriolic triumph), "in that case, it looks like the game’s saying you’re forever alone." 

"Am I not?" he says, an honest question, quirking his head to the right. "You have to fit your title, I just… I don’t know why this is your title." 

"Why not?" Navo shoots back, her fist thumping down on the bedroom floor, her tone switching to one of determination. "I _murdered_ you. I  abandoned Ali in a crashing plane." 

"How did you benefit from that?" Dirk shakes his head. "Whatever." 

In the corner, Tommaso snores. It's subtle, but it's still snoring. 

"Oh, but…" Dirk’s eyes light up. "I’m the one with the most obvious powers. Do you want to see?" 

"Sure," Navo says wearily, "Why not?" _We'll discuss this later._

"Ali," Dirk says, picking up a pillow not necessary to the blanket fort’s structural integrity. "Do you mind if this pillow is, um, destroyed?" 

"No," Ali answers, after a second in which she determines that _yes he was in fact talking to me wait what was the question?_ "Go ahead." 

Dirk grins and lets go of the pillow, which just hangs there in the air. "The trick is wordplay," he says. "There goes the relationship between the pillow and gravity…" 

"Oh, wow," Ali says, staring at the pillow. 

He waves a hand, and the pillow is sliced in half, an unnatural cleanliness in the cut. "The relationship between the molecules of one half of the pillow and those of the other." 

"Nice…" Navo isn’t watching the pillow, but Dirk’s face. 

Finally, Dirk grabs one piece of pillow in his hand, concentrating hard on it. Slowly, very slowly, the pillow appears to disintegrate into the air. "The relationships," he says with relish, "between every individual molecule." 

"Holy fuck," Ali breathes. "Can I do anything like that?" 

"What about me?" Navo joins. "Other than stealing lives, that is." 

"Um…" Dirk’s brows knit together. "You’re an Heir, Ali, you’re a mostly passive class - I’m very active, I’m a destroyer, I’m a good offensive player." 

"So," summarizes Ali, disappointed, "I’m a shield."

"A Hope shield, dear," Navo agrees, smirking. 

"Not so much a shield," Dirk says, "as inherently _shielded_." 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Online!** [12:04AM]

  
  


"Oh," Ali says, checking her phone. "Joy." 

  
  


EH: I know you all hate me

EH: but there is a problem

EH: a large devil monster is chasing me asking where my guide is

EH: So I turned in to light and blinded him for a second

EH: and now I’m running from it

EH: more accurately flying

ER: what the fuck???

  
  


"Can someone deal with this?" Ali wonders aloud. 

  
  


ER: what is my guide DOING???

EH: please help

  
  


"What’s going on?" asks Navo. 

" _Someone_ ’s spamming the chat," Ali huffs. 

"Yeah, but who?" Navo presses. "What are they saying?"

"I dunno, do I?" 

"Satan is attacking Devon for some reason," Dirk says, a hint of desperation in his voice. _Keep it believable_.  "And I can’t help him. Guides can’t be killed, they just _can’t_.  Not as far as he knows, at least..." 

In the corner, Tom is still snoring.

  
  


EH: I’m approaching Ali’s planet. Somebody do something!

ER: devon, guides cant be killed - i want to help you, but i dont know how!!

  
  


Navo hops to her feet. "Everyone in the plane. Now." Without waiting for a response, she turns on her heel and races down the stairs. Ali follows, tumbling from the fort and snapping to her feet, and Dirk gives up ground for the sake of speed. 

  
  


ER: do you have any ideas???

  
  


Navo leaps into the cabin, flipping switches. "To Devon’s land, I’m guessing?" 

"Yeah," Ali says immediately. 

  
  


EH: if I had an idea I wouldn’t be running. I can stun him with light but that’s about it

  
  


" _No_ ," Dirk says. "He’s coming here." 

"It’s called a fighter jet for a _reason_ ," Navo points out. 

  
  


EH: alright. I’m in the stratosphere and Satan is rude

EH: he keeps saying shit in weird languages

  
  


"...fuck." Dirk swears, looking up into the sky as Devon - and the beast - arrive. 

Ali grabs Dirk by the collar. "Not my house!" Dirk turns to look at her, then wrenches out of her grip and speeds directly at the guide, Devon zooming past him. A flash of blinding light, and Devon drops upstage to where Dirk is hovering, rubbing his eyes. Beneath them both, Ali stands for a moment, shocked, heart thumping rapidly.

"Dirk – I hate to ask, but can you help?" 

"Subsiste," Dirk says in reply, ignoring Devon in favor of the beast before them. 

Below him, Navo begins to lift up off of the ground. "Ali, are you coming?" 

"I’m coming," Ali says in a placatory tone, haltingly. 

"Don’t do anything," Dirk calls back to the others. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Somewhere on the Dersite moon, Tom wanders. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"I think he wants my pendant," Devon supplies. "The one that calls Mr. Card." 

"Quis, puer? Pactum fecimus." _We made a deal._

Dirk floats there in the air for a moment. Then, with an air of finality, "Give it to him." 

"No!" Devon says, shocked. "Mr. Card is my friend!" 

"Bene agis."

"Dirk, what’s going _on_?" Navo demands, a sheen on sweat on her brow. " Translate for your _fucking_ guide!" 

"He says he’s going to kill us if you don’t give up yours," Dirk lies. "And he can, he was programmed with the Gods above Derse."

"Why does he want my guide?" Devon says, his eyes wide and panicked. 

"I don’t - " Dirk has to turn away and take a moment to collect himself. "I don’t know! All I know is that he says he does!" 

"Kill me," Navo offers, flying up next to Dirk. "I'm a _player_.  Leave the guide alone." _They won't really kill me._ Her eyebrows furrow. _And even if they do... if I am or will be what Dirk says, it could be a worthy sacrifice. I am_ not _the bad guy._

Dirk looks at Navo, comprehension dawning. 

"But why would he think I’d give it to him?" Devon pleads.  "It’s not like he can _kill_ me." 

"What was that system you two explained? Your death could be Just, Devon!" Aliwarns. 

"Um, Devon," Dirk says, "he was programmed with a God from above. Of course he can kill you. Could be _Heroic_ , too, if you keep fighting back." 

"Honora pactum tuus." 

"Shit, I don't know that one," Dirk murmurs. "Let me look it up." 

  


**e** **ntropicRelativity** **[E** **R** **]** is now **private messaging carbonatedCorpse[CC]** **!** [12:06AM]

  


"Not heroic," Devon groans. "Just _stupid_." 

  


ER \---> CC: youre not going to try to steal someones life after he kills you?

  


"I feel like fighting Satan might count as Heroic," Dirk points out.

  


CC \---> ER: No, i won't. I'm not that petty

  


"Devon!" Ali says, tugging at his shoulder. "Get your head out of your ass and fall back." 

  


ER \---> CC: then what??? try to steal HIS life??? 

  


"Can’t we strike up a deal of some sort?" Devon pleads. "He _is_ the devil, isn’t he?" 

  


CC \---> ER: He doesn't have one, stupid

  


"Good idea," says Dirk, his phone already in his pocket. His eyes shift to Navo. _Calmly, Dirk…_ " He says consuming the other guides will give him power, and he wants to know what could be better for him than this." 

"Well, we can’t just power up _Satan_ ," Devon points out. 

"If he takes my power," Navo jumps in, "it will be much easier to take other lives." 

"Navo!" Devon scolds. "Don’t be dumb," encroaching on Ali's shrill and somewhat more to-the-point "DO YOU HAVE A DEATH WISH?"

"Ego princeps sanguis sum; possum confringere pactum." _I am Blood’s Prince; I can break the bargain._

"Et cum ille rem, scientia tuus amitteris," the Beast replies patiently. _And with that affair, your knowledge will be lost_. 

"What did you say?" Devon demands, grabbing Dirk’s shoulder and wheeling him around.

"Devon," Navo snaps, "stop asking questions!" 

Dirk swallows, staring into Devon’s eyes, and says, trembling, "I suggested Navo. He says a human life is worth nothing to him." 

Devon’s hand relaxes on Dirk’s shoulder, warm against the cool cloth, then drops. "Oh… I see." 

"Well," Navo says, "looks like I’m’a have to do this the hard way…" A scythe drops into her hand, from a deck used since the revolt of the first serfs. 

"Wait!" Dirk says, and reaches out a fingertip. "Da manus tuus me." _Give me your hand_ … 

Purely out of curiosity, the Beast complies, a tentacle sinking down to Dirk just outside of the aura of Void surrounding the eldritch creature. Dirk touches it, just barely, and a bit of Void dissolves from around it. 

"Dirk!" Ali yells, bringing him back to the instant. "What’s going _on_ over there?!" 

"I’ve got an idea," he says to the others, shaking his head. "But… I’d have to sacrifice Ali. Maybe there are alternatives, I’m trying to think." 

"WHAT?!" Ali blurts, backpedaling. 

"DIRK! _No_ ," Navo insists. "You are not doing that." 

"I’m trying to think of alternatives!" Dirk repeats. I’m sorry, it’s just the first thing I thought of." 

"How would it _help?_ " Ali queries. 

"Guides can’t be sustained if two things of opposing natures are programmed into it," Dirk explains. "Satan would explode." 

" _Dirk_ , just let me _try_ something \- "

"Navo," Dirk says, sweating, " _please_ \- "

"Can you ask Satan," Devon wonders, "if he’d be willing to do a trade for Mr. Card? I give up his pendant for something else?" 

"Guides," Dirk says, ignoring the question entirely, "can be programmed with other guides, even past the second tier of prototyping. Who has a guide absolutely opposite the nature of Satanguide?" 

"Let Navo try!" Ali suggests.

"Belle’s in my guide," Navo adds. 

"Me too, though!" Ali rejoins. "My dog is incompetent!" 

"Ali," Dirk picks. "Quickly, get it." 

"Let me _try_ something!" Navo repeats.

"What is it?" 

"Just trust me." 

"Perhaps a coin flip could solve it all," Devon suggests slyly. 

(If Dirk isn't mistaken, something is emitted from the Beast's mouth that – if the situation weren't so infused with drama – he might have named as a snicker.) "Devon \- " Dirk turns to the boy in question \- "Satan knows you’re an Heir of Light, that won’t work on him." 

Ali’s guide appears beside her, the amulet in her hand. 

"Ali," Dirk says, "have you programmed your guide more than once?" 

"Once a dog, once a fedora. Ready when you are, Dirk." 

"God damn it, Ali." 

"What – is that bad?" 

"Tempus est parvus," the Beast says. _Time is low._

"Just go for it, Navo," Dirk says, face in his hands.

"God damn, you guys are bad at this…" Scanning below her, Navo notices the consorts grounded. "Aha!" She thrusts her scythe at Dirk’s face. "Hold this for me." 

Dirk holds that for her. 

She flies down to the consorts, pulling one into her arms. Up again she goes. "So, your guide is Satan?" she prompts. "Meaning it’s, you know, a demon? Meaning it’s dead?" 

"Daemon, technically," Dirk corrects. "I don’t know if it’s dead… It’s a game construct. It’s not _alive_ …" 

"Well, let’s see what the heck the game thinks it is!" The Thief of Life swings the consort up into the air, yanks her scythe out of Dirk’s hands, and bats the lifeforce directly out of the consort. In strange, flowing rhythms, it smacks against the Beast’s aura of Void and bounces off.

"Navo," Dirk says, "are you aware that Satanguide has been programmed more than once?" 

Navo frowns. "I thought it was worth a shot." 

Somehow, without a face, the Beast seems to exude a tense feeling of disapproval. 

"So…" Ali looks to Dirk. "What’s the plan? I - am I going to die today?" 

"I’m the fucking plan," Dirk says, and concentrates. "Ali, come over by me." 

"My goodness," Devon says as Ali nudges him out of the way. "What language…" 

"What’s going on?" Ali wants to know. 

But with an incomprehensible shriek of rage, the Beast attacks. 

"MOTHER FUCKER!" Dirk screams and flies backward as fast as the laws of physics around Ali’s land will allow him; somewhere to his left, Devon darts away. Ali sprints toward her house.

Somewhere to his right, Navo yells something that sounds like "TO THE BATMOBILE!", but the panic Dirk is fighting assures him this does not matter nearly as much as the fact that he’s going to DIE. "Follow me, dumbass!" Dirk calls to Ali. "I’ve got a plan!" 

"WHO-KAY!" Ali says, as Navo _nyoom_ s by and somehow manages to yank her into the plane. 

"Listen," Dirk shouts, his voice barely audible above the rushing air as Satanguide gives chase. He’s lost track of Devon, but he knows Navo and Ali are somewhere to the right - "I’m going to try to break the connection between another timeline’s iteration of you and that timeline. Specifically, another timeline’s iteration of a guide that’s been programmed with you!" 

" _What?!_ " 

"Don’t worry about it!" Dirk insists. "All you have to do is believe that it’ll happen REALLY, REALLY HARD! You’re protected by faith! Have faith in yours - " 

"Perhaps," Devon suggests, "you can simply break the bond of Satan and the Gods!" 

"When did _you_ get back - " 

"ARE YOU A PRINCE OR WHAT?" 

"GET IN THE GODDAMN PLANE, YOU IDIOTS!" 

"Holy fuck," Dirk breathes. 

"They’re not getting in the planes, are they?" Navo says, and Ali shrugs beside her. 

Dirk stops and wheels about in midair. With a swift motion, slashes his hand downward across his body. 

"I can’t believe I forget these things," Devon grumbles. The slice appearing in Satanguide more than answers Devon’s question. In one fluid break, pieces of Satan curling in on themselves, the Beast breaks into three items: two books and a kernelsprite. The books fall to the ground of LOAAM, and without Satan’s screams, there is a deathly silence.

"Success," Devon chuckles. "Good going, Dirk. With my brain and your brawn, we can do anything…" _It's a good thing he's never turned that on_ me. 

Devon floats down to the surface of Ali’s land and begins shredding the ex-Beast’s composite books; in a burst of seriously skewed priorities, Navo ejects Ali from the plane and hops out herself, hovering toward Dirk. Behind her, the plane falls to its crunching, chaotic demise.

"So," Ali says, grimacing, "I’m not dying today?" 

"Well," Dirk says, "I’m sorry, but I really can’t resist…" 

Below them, on LOAAM's ground, Devon backs the fuck up.

Dirk floats down to the ground, adopting a meditative stance. "Don’t worry," he reassures, "it should be fine…" He considers this. "You might want to head to Skaia to avoid any, um, explosions." 

" _Explosions?_ " Ali tries to exchange glances with Devon, but he’s just staring at Dirk. Navo laughs and joins Dirk on the ground. Navo couldn’t care less. 

"Hey," Devon says, "I don’t trust you _that_ much… I do trust _my_ luck, though, so go for it." He kicks off in the direction of Skaia. 

"Trust me," Dirk says, directing it at Ali, "you want to leave. I just want to try something, but... Even so, only a gram of antimatter will react with matter in an explosion approximately equivalent to 43 kilotons of TNT." 

"Is my house going to be destroyed?" Ali demands. 

He smiles. "I’ll do it on the other side of the planet." 

She flies off toward her front door. "I’m not leaving my house!" Ali calls back. With that settled, Dirk takes off for the opposite side of the planet. Navo follows. 

"You know," says Navo, "I’ve found that meditation really helps the soul." 

(About a minute later, Dirk and Navo touch down on the other side of the planet.)

"What I’m going to do here," Dirk says, glancing around the shiny ground, rather distracted, "is try to break the connection between an alternate timeline’s Dirk and that timeline." 

"Why?" Navo wonders aloud. "What’s the point?" 

Dirk shrugs. "I’m curious. I’ve had plans for this for a while, just to know if I could; now seemed like a good enough time as any, while I'm still on an adrenaline rush. And…" He sighs. "I want to make up for what my guide’s done. Unfortunately, according to my very _little_ knowledge about quantum physics, if the alternate Dirk is from a universe comprised of antimatter… you heard me. You stay here, we’ll both be vaporized." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the surface of Skaia, Devon sighs, staring up at LOAAM, and waits for the big boom. Beside him, Ali lands, and she sits down, and she clasps his hand.

She’s changed her mind about her house. 

It's not worth it. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk shrugs, a smile playing about his lips. "To be fair, I kind of deserve it." 

"I don’t hold grudges," Navo offers. _Even so, the justice is poetic... If I have to die to keep from becoming someone they'll hate, I may as well do it here. The villain of the story, and the villain yet-to-be..._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Hey, Devon." 

"Hey." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Oh, Navo." Dirk is now openly grinning. "You’ve got _no_ idea." 

Navo laughs, a free sound in the air, letting go of all the tension… _Maybe you don't have to hate him._ "Hey, at least we’ll go together." _Maybe you can let go, just for now, just for a moment. You only have each other, after all._ Then again, maybe it's just the _oh-god-I-lived_ brand of relief talking. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"What’s up?" 

"Just waiting for death and destruction," Devon says. 

"And they called me homicidal." 

"Yeah."

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk smiles, genuinely, and Navo can see that his tears are swelling in his eyes. "I love you, Navo." 

Navo nods. "I know." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"You know…" Devon pauses. "We might not beat this game, Ali." 

"Wait, what?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Apparently if I were to summon a version of myself made up of antimatter, that’d be the equivalent of 2.8 millionkilotons of TNT." 

"That’s a lot of TNT." 

Dirk shrugs, suddenly looking much wearier than he did a second ago. "I’ll just try extra hard not to summon an antimatter version of me, then."

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"We were almost killed by one powerful monster. Apparently the final boss is a lot stronger." 

"So what?" Ali frowns. "We're not dead yet!" 

"But it could happen…" Devon’s hand slips from hers as he straightens some ruffle in his outfit. "Oh well." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk sits down, adopting a meditative pose again. "Sit with me, if you’re okay with _dying_ with me. This will take a very, very long time for me to compose." 

Navo sits beside him. _Justice will overtake._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"What are you going to do after the game?" Ali says, smiling, trying not to be perturbed. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes. "I was gonna major in music education." 

Devon gives a low, knowing chuckle. "I was gonna become rich." 

"Inheritance, or hard work?" 

"Both. Hopefully." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk concentrates.

Navo sits and waits. 

The Thief and her Prince meditate. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali sighs. "At least one of us was going to be rich. Do you know how little money a music teacher makes?" 

"I’ve heard." 

"I’m sure it’s rewarding, though!" 

"I was going to take over Mom’s empire." Devon frowns, chewing on his lip. "She isn’t like… like my dad at all." 

"Exactly which empire?" 

"Ever heard of Aeropostale?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A tear sounds, as though reality itself were ripping. And it is. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Oh, my god! You’re fucking kidding me!" 

"Mom is a fashion designer," Devon says, nodding. "And _rich_." 

"Oh, my _god!_ Only the _ungodly_ stuck up kids at school buy from there." She pauses. "It all makes sense now." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo opens her eyes, and in a whispered smile, says, "You’ve done it, love." 

Before Dirk and Navo stand two teenaged boys. One is in a Prince’s outfit, a red gear emblazoned on his chest. The other wears a trench coat over jeans and a t-shirt.

"...Dirk?" the coated Dirk says. 

"Wow," Navo comments. _Is that... Is that a denim trench coat? Dear god, that flew right past a fashion disaster and smacked square in the middle of_ offensive. _It's 2015, not 1975._

"Oh," says blood!Dirk. "Oh, my god." 

"Dirk, what did you do?" Navo says. "There’s _three_ of you - no offense, but I can hardly deal with _one_ \- "

"No," says time!Dirk. "No, no, no, no, no - you’re all _doomed!_ " His voice is rising in pitch and volume. "You can’t DO this!" 

"Dirk," Navo says, standing and pulling him up with her, "I think we made a mistake." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On Skaia, Devon and Ali fall to the ground, their senses suddenly blinded. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tommaso lies on the Dersite street, other residents milling around him.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Wherever the hell Rory is, he passes out too. This is the kind of shit that even he isn't exempt from. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the land of Aurora and Masquerades, Navo and a pair of Dirks fall to the ground. 

One player, of a game far away from here, remains standing.

time!Dirk twists his hand around the doomed timeline, considering, thinking, hoping. He can’t get back to his timeline. He’s a Prince of Time, not a Lord (or some other fresh bullshit). Looking over the events of this session - especially the actions of this Dirk - it’s easy to see what he was trying to do. He knows this Dirk, like he knows all Dirks - there may be 144 Dirks to choose from just going by classpect, but they’re fundamentally the same, even beneath their tier clothes, they’ve just each cultivated different _parts_ of themselves… 

This Dirk, it’s clear, he was trying to pull in a Space player - their Space player is dead, so a Space Dirk, specifically, was meant to somehow save his failing session. 

_Idiot._

But Dirk can’t get back to his own session, this Dirk has severed that connection. 

_Asshole._

And he’s a Time player. If nothing else, he understands timelines, and the nature of fates and endings. So he does as the Blood-colored Dirk wished. 

He goes back to the very first point of any significance to the session \- in terms of their doomed status, at least. 

(Well, that’s a lie. The first thing that solidified this session’s doom was the integration of Devon Hart. _An Heir of Light Devon?_ time!Dirk thinks. _What a waste_.) 

But he doesn’t change that, because he knows exactly what blood!Dirk was going for. Instead, he moves on - and stops at the _second_ most vital point. He goes back to the beginning and he guides Blitz - _A Seer in this session, how odd, but still a Space player, like my Blitz_ \- he pauses to smile, his Blitz, his lovely Blitz - through his instantiation into Sburb, then swears him to secrecy. He keeps Blitz from interfering, even when the others are all murdering each other – _children_ , he thinks, but he mustn't stop them _._ He kills Blitz as soon as possible upon entering the Medium, laying the boy on his Quest Bed so that he can ascend and view the events of the whole session from his home, and with his survival and entrance into the session, the two towers of Propit’s moon become three. 

And on the Land of Clarity and Frogs, Blitz carefully, with the guidance of time!Dirk, breeds the Universe Frog. And he is successful. 

Time passes. It’s what it’s best at. 

And now, somewhere on the Land of Aurora and Masquerades, a Prince of Blood and a Thief of Life begin a process that cannot be allowed to occur. 

"This will take a very, very long time to compose," Dirk says. 

From this new timeline comes a " _No."_

Navo turns around. _The fuck?_

"My name is Rose," the boy says, "and you must not do this." 

"You jumped a timeline just to stop me?" Dirk says, eyebrows high.

Rose shakes his head. "You forced me to jump a timeline." He smiles thinly. "And I destroyed your timeline in response. In fact, I destroyed each timeline but the new one that I created. In all luck, that should be sufficient to force-jump this one to alpha status." 

"Dirk," Navo whispers, "What’s going on?" 

Dirk glances at Navo carefully. "So… what, in our original timeline, the whole thing with Devon never happened? Did any of us even god-tier?" 

Navo looks between Dirk and this new boy, worried. "This… This is weird…" 

Rose nods. "I ensured that there was but one difference betwixt each timeline, out of courtesy between two iterations of myself." His words are stilted; they seem wrong coming out of a mouth that… _looks_ … like Dirk’s. "In your original session, Blitz died. Your session was doomed. And now I’ve enabled all of you to survive the death that all doomed sessions are fated to experience." 

"He’s confusing me," Navo mumbles. 

"It does not matter whether you understand," Dirk states, managing to make it sound like both a fact andan insult. "Dirk knows what I mean. He knows that this is exactly what I would have planned, were a Time-Prince iteration of himself to have stumbled from the portal which he meant to have opened in the future." 

She crosses her arms. "I guess _all_ Dirks hate me." 

Rose smirks. "I care nothing for you, Navo. You and _your_ Dirk destroyed my entire timeline by removing me from it entirely; I no longer _exist_ , and this is your doing." He turns to his counterpart, his fingernails (manicured to perfection) laid clean in striking contrast against dark skin. "But I do care for humans. I saved you not because of any respect for you. You killed what I love!" he barks, then wipes his mouth of spittle, and straightens, his expression still disgusted, his insides still brimming with rage. "I saved you because I value human life, do you understand? You are nothing. _Nothing! My Blitz is dead because of –_ " 

"Fuck. You." Navo stands to match him, and finds, to her delight, that this Dirk – _Rose, is he calling himself?_ – is shorter than her, by some strange serendipity across universes. Tanner, with black hair, not blonde, and without so many scars across his collarbone… but shorter. "You think we've had any choice? We've been doing the best we can, _Rose_ , we've _died_ for this because we couldn't control our fucking emotions, and you think we haven't done _enough?_ I'm sorry to hear that you lost them, I really am, but you have _no right_ to criticize us for what we've done to survive." 

Rose looks up into the sky, distaste growing on his tongue, and speaks quietly, the fury vanishing into impeccably-maintained calm (or an impeccably-maintained front). "You are not the Dirk you were when you entered this session, Quintana. If you need me, I shall be with Blitz, on the Land of Clarity, for now. If I need _you_ – well, I'll find you. A Blitz of Space will still be useful to me." Rose frowns. " Goodbye, Prince." His feet leave the ground – _No._ – Navo leaps at him, scythe flashing - then, suddenly, she’s back on the ground – _What?_ – I didn’t just put you there," Dirk informs her,  glaring down at the Thief. "I erased the iteration of you that attacked me." He leans in close, and she has to fight off the urge to recoil in disgust from the unnaturally white teeth. "I suggest that you put more thought into the creation of new timelines in the future. I respect all people, but respect can be lost." He pauses, then smiles. "It's a shame you're not _really_ strong enough to kill me. " With that, he flies off in the direction of LOCAF. 

"Bitch," Navo spits. "If I was a Time player, oh, boy, would I have his head…" 

"What…" Dirk coughs, a hacking, grainy sound. "What the _fuck?_ " 

Navo shakes her head. "Don’t ask me, I have no clue." 

"I think I just mindfucked _myself_. And knowing me, I think I probably meant to."

They stand there for a second.

"Well," Dirk says, lying down carefully on the softly gleaming dirt (despite its glassy appearance, he hasn't been cut yet), "we didn’t get blown up." 

"True, that’s good." 

"In, what was it, an explosion equivalent to roughly 2.8 million kilotons of TNT? I mean, that’s a lot of TNT." 

"It's a good thing you tried extra hard not to summon an antimatter version of you, then." 

"I…" Dirk sits up, weary. "Navo, do you think there’s any chance you can take just enough of my Life to put me in a brief and comatose state?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In a stroke of serendipity, Tommaso and Ali meet halfway to her planet, Devon following close behind. 

"Oh. Hi!" 

"Hey, Ali!" Tommaso greets. "Hey, you know where my planet…" He shuts up as Devon arrives.

"Ali," Devon says, "you ditched me for Tom? I’m hurt." 

"Sorry," Ali says, "I was just about to go home. Would you two like some tea?" 

"Tea would be great," Devon says. "And I don’t think I’ve been blown up, so whatever Dirk did, he probably succeeded." 

Beside him, Tom just shrugs. 

"Tommaso, why do you hate _me_ so much? I mean, I said sorry, and I’m not even the one who killed you. I didn’t kill anyone except for Dirk, but it turned out I made _him_ a _god_." 

"Let’s go to my place!" Ali pipes up. "Ha! Haha! _Letsavoidconfrontationcomeonguys_!" She flies faster, ahead of them. Boy does she hate confrontation, haha. 

"I don’t want to say anything," Tom says, not looking at Devon. "I’m afraid that it'll start trouble…" _And trouble leads to death._ Tom doesn’t remember Devon _apologizing_ , either.

"Fair enough… I can accept that." 

Ali leaves the door open for the two behind her as a measure of courtesy (since it's been something on the order of seventy-six years since she last had a key), but pauses. _I wonder if the other two want any tea?_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Uh, yeah?" Navo says, sitting down next to him. "Why?" 

Dirk doesn’t respond. 

"Dirk, why do you want me to knock you out?" 

"This was…" Dirk closes his mouth, considers, chooses his words carefully. Unusually carefully, for him. "This was stressful. And we may have been brought together by mutual threat, but remember, we’re the same people as we always were." 

"Hey, you two!" 

"Ali!" Dirk yelps. He stumbles to his feet, almost falling over. 

"Oh… Uh, hey, Ali." (Navo stays on her ass. Fuck that bullshit.)

"What?" Ali says, frowning.

"I… nothing… Did you hear that?"

"Hear what, Navo?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon waltzes into Ali’s house and easily makes himself at home. Tom follows suit. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Talk later," Dirk says hurriedly. "Uh, right now, how about tea?" 

"Yay!" Ali says gleefully. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"You know," Devon says slyly, "we can’t just sit in _silence_ , Tommaso. Tell me something. Something _interesting_." 

"Uh, well, the D – the Gods above Derse are telling me a lot of stuff, probably because of my guide’s absence. They gave me a lot of alchemy ideas! Is that something interesting?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo sighs. "You know, I’ll take some tea too. But I kinda want to talk to Dirk…" 

"Sorry, Navo," Dirk murmurs, pulling her up and wrapping an arm around her, but that sense of… of _togetherness_ … is gone. Now, it’s just awkward. 

"Oh!" Ali says, her anxiety meter spiking. "Did I interrupt something?" 

Navo glances over at Dirk. "Uh, no, Ali, you’re fine, just… It's just, I just _remembered_ I wanted to talk to him. Uh, so, you didn't interrupt." 

"Okay!" Ali says amicably, her eyes still flicking between the two. "I’ll be in the kitchen. Earl grey or green?" 

"Green, please," Navo says quietly. 

"Green for me as well," Dirk agrees. 

"Got it!" And she’s gone. Hot damn, it’s like a magic trick. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"It's cool, I guess," Devon says, inspecting his cuticles. "You could make some pretty powerful weapons and, uh, stuff." Sure, they're slowly becoming obsolete compared to god-tier power, but there's no reason to bring that up now. 

"Not just weapons," Tom reminds him. "Think about the possibilities!" _There's so much to do, so much I_ can _do... And one thing, in particular – one thing to Alchemite_ everything _with._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk turns to Navo, and, very carefully and very deliberately, rests his head on her shoulder. "Temporary," he mutters. "Just… I haven't slept in so long, Navo. Give me a chance to rest." 

"Alright…" Navo turns her gaze downward. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali walks through the front door and into her kitchen, 5 cups of water already boiling. "Devon! Tom! Earl grey or green?" 

"What did I have last time?" Tom wonders. "Give me whatever you didn’t already give me." 

"I forget," Ali says. "Probably green." 

"Earl grey, then." 

"Devon?" Ali prompts. 

"Earl grey, please." 

"Two earl grey, two green, and a hot cocoa for myself," Ali nods, pouring the hot water into varying mugs. "They all have the colors for our symbol things!" she explains (to no one in particular). "I wanted to be fancy." Ali places the cups onto a tray and takes them to the living room.

"Nice!" Tom praises.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

His head still resting in the nook of Navo’s neck, he keeps talking. "What is it you wanted to talk about?" He lets out a breathy laugh, but it’s obvious it's not a particularly _amused_ or _happy_ one. "Besides, you know, just everything." 

"Heh, yeah…" Navo smiles uncertainly. "But, um. I was thinking… about you and Tom… and, well… uh… I don’t know." Awkward laugh. 

"Sorry," Dirk whispers. "I am… sorry. But I do like him." 

"Yeah, I gathered…" She looks up, scrutinizing the sky for something, although she isn’t sure what.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Oh, _man!_ " Devon complains. "But my costume has a cruddy color scheme. According to Mom, yellow and orange are _out_." 

"I'm wearing a banana, Devon."

"Fair enough." 

"Cool your jets." 

Tom laughs, and Ali sips gingerly. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Sorry." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Well," Devon says, "Dirk and Navo are _somewhere_ about on the planet. The whole gang but Rory is here." 

"He likes his dogs." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk shakes his head, removing it from Navo’s shoulder. "Seriously, what did you want to talk about?" 

"Dirk… I… I’m still mad about the whole Tom thing… but, I…" She sighs. She doesn’t do things like this well. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Hey, look!" Tom says, slowly moving his cup back and forth in Devon’s direction. "I’m throwing shade!" 

"Tom," Ali says, smiling.

"Um…" Devon grimaces. "Okay." 

"Devon." Ali puts down her cup and a sober silence fills the room. "Did you spend _any_ time on the internet before joining the session? Do I have to educate you on what memes are?" 

"Memes?" 

"Oh, no. Oh, _no_. Tommaso, are you hearing this?" 

"Hell, _yes_ ," Tom says. "You are about to be fucking schooled by the biggest meme here. I am the _rarest_ of the memes." 

"Hey, that’s _me!_ " Ali says, frowning.

"Sigh," Devon says. He literally says the word 'sigh' aloud, in a conversation with other, living human beings. (Neither conversant takes notice.)

"Tommaso," Ali says, rolling her eyes, "don’t kid yourself. I am the biggest sinner here." 

"Ali, fuck off." 

"Maybe," Devon says, staring up at the ceiling, "I should have _let_ Satan kill me." 

"Wait…" Tom says. "If you’re a giant meme…" 

"Just kidding, of course!" The United No-One Emirates continue to pay Devon the attention he deserves. 

"And _I’m_ a giant meme - "

"Tommaso I killed you once I will kill you again if you threaten my meming status - "

"But, _Ali_ ," Tom gasps, " _Who’s driving the plane?!_ " 

" _Navo is!_ " 

"I don’t know what’s going on…" Devon points out.

"But then who was phone?" Tom says.

"But what," Ali says, "if phone was _no kill?_ " 

"Am I going mad?" Devon asks. "Is this my descent into madness?" 

Ali whistles the X-Files theme with a touch more melodrama than was strictly necessary. 

"Blasphemy," Tom says, shaking his head. 

"I’m insane," Devon decides. "It’s official. I’ve lost it." 

"You," Ali says. "Me. Sing off. Here and now." 

"Only Queen songs," Tom says. 

"I’ve gone _insane_ ," Devon moans. 

"You man enough?" Ali says, her eyebrows wriggling wildly like dying insects. 

"Nah, bruh. Devon, you tag in for me. I’m gonna go do Alchemiter shit." 

Devon mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like ‘ _somekindabullshit_ ’.

"Are you kidding?" Ali says. "The fuck, Tom? You can’t just tap in, that’s not how it works. Besides, Devon is too good at this." 

"Uh, thanks," Devon says. "I take lessons." 

"I know, you never used to stop talking about it in the group chat _before_ all this bullshit. And _I_ ," Ali says, "didn’t. And that’s why I’ll lo - WAIT a MINUTE!" She storms off toward her room. 

Somewhere in the background, Tom makes himself some hot chocolate so he can have a mug in hand and look thoughtful and sophisticated while carrying on about meming status like a douchebag. 

In the living room, Devon is alone. 

He delivers the _To Be or Not To Be_ soliloquy to himself. 

Why not? 

It’s not like it’ll have any plot significance. 

( _Theater kids_. I mean, right?)

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"If given the choice," Dirk says, "what would you tell me to do? Chase Tom, or don’t?" 

"I would…" Navo thinks about it. "I don’t know. I still like you, but if you like Tom more… I can’t _stop_ you." _Well, that's not strictly true._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali returns, a clarinet in her hand. "My clarinet - _gasp_ \- against your singing." 

"Oh. Um, no." 

"The _one_ time I have an audience, I swear to _god_ –  " 

"You can _play for me_ , if you’d like. No contests." 

From the kitchen, Tommaso slips out the door. There’s a certain ingredient he needs from his own home, something that the Gods say he should be using every time _anyway_... 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [12:30AM]

  
  


SS: dirk, navo, u missed our tea time

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"I still like you, Navo," Dirk says, tired. "But I don’t think we would work.

_I gave you so many chances._ "I get it…" Navo stands. _I cared so much. I did everything for you_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"You know," Devon says, "the clarinet is a sophisticated instrument. I like it." 

"So is the flute. I like the sound of a flute. Wanna know what instrument I fucking hate? Anything brass. It sounds horrid."

"Ew, brass." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom selects the icon labeled _Binding of Isaac: Afterbirth_ in the library of his Steam account and copies it to a game disc, captchalogues it. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk stands with her and kisses her on the cheek, then takes off flying in the direction of Ali’s house. 

  
  


SS: is anyone even online like wtf

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom flies back off to Ali’s house. _That should cover it._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Right? And percussion. But I do love the bells." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo sighs and catches up to him. "This is what you asked for." _I gave you every opportunity._

Something hits him and Dirk dips, a shoulder smashing into the ground as he struggles to stay up, fails, and crashes to the ground, tumbling over himself, skidding across the shiny material, straining… "Navo, what the _fuck?_ " 

"I’m sorry," she repeats, mechanically. _What did you give me?_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"I play piano and percussion. I also play drums, but mostly to annoy my parents." 

"I play string instruments to annoy my mom." 

"Honey, I’m home," Tom calls, entering the front door. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

" _Stop_ …" Dirk pushes himself to his hands and knees, stands, takes a step, stumbles \- falls back down again.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Hey, Ali," Tom wonders, "do you have a family photo?" 

"No, sorry, not anywhere that I know of. Why?" 

Tom shrugs. "Wanted to try an item concept." 

"Might have a baby photo somewhere if it’s important." 

"Nah, sorry, won’t work… Uh, I think." 

  
  


Meanwhile:

"Shh," Navo says, parting his hair to the side to look him in the eyes. "Just rest." _I love you_. _You're better than this._

Dirk’s eyes roll back in his head, and he doesn’t stir. Navo sits down beside him. 

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online!** [12:32AM]

  
  


CC: I THINK I MADE A MISTAKE

  


19 19


	11. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious (Part Two)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The only reason there are two chapters for November 11th is that it was too long for the entire HTML code to be published as one chapter on AO3. This isn't chapter 11. Consider it chapter 10 + 1/2.

Wednesday, November 11, 2015: Part 2

**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online!** [12:32AM]

  
  


CC: I THINK I MADE A MISTAKE

EH: what? 

SS: wuts wrong

  
  


Navo's eyes flit calmly across the screen as she designs. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [12:32AM]

  
  


VP: What’s new? 

CC: I THINK I KILLED DIRK

SS: whAT

EH: was it just or heroic? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali doesn’t waste time on words; she drops her phone and flies out of the house.

  
  


CC: i STOLE his LIFE

EH: maybe he can recover. I do need to speak to him at some point so I have faith he’ll live. Don’t let him die. 

  
  


"I have to go," Tom chokes out, and follows.

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **I** **nactive** **!** [12:34AM]

  
  


"Navo!" Ali says, making it to the Thief on the other side of her planet. "What _happened?_ " 

Beside them, Tom lands accordingly.

"He wanted me to knock him out," Navo explains, "but I went a little overboard…" Tears are beginning to slip from her eyes. 

"Are you sure?Why would he _want_ you to?" Tommaso demands. "Dirk? _Dirk!_ " 

As Ali stares down at the body of another friend, her face grows pallid, and - _blood \- dead - no - no no no_ \- flashes, coming back to her – _arrow,_ _neck, STOP_ – _MAKE YOUR MARK_ –  with a little breath, Ali passes out. 

"Isn’t he supposed to be IMMORTAL?" Tom cries, kneeling down next to him. "He has to _come_ _back!_ " 

Navo wraps Ali and Dirk in a captchalogued net and carries them off toward LOPAR - the perks of bony friends and god-tiered strength - as Tom kicks off in a different direction. 

The Dark Gods warned him that _someone_ was going to die soon. His best bet right now is to continue making items and _not lose his head_. 

  


Meanwhile: 

Out of the window, Devon sees Navo in the air; he follows. 

  


Meanwhile: 

The waves on LOPAR are out of control. 

Navo lands by her house and throws the door open, the wind nearly smashing it in her face again, setting them down on a couch. "Get _up_ , god damn it!" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Land of Night and Bullshit, your name is Tommaso Mambelli. 

You alchemize Mom’s Real Knife! With it, you need only draw the alchemical symbol for sulfur to manifest brimstone. 

You don’t apply it yet. 

If you’re being honest, you’re kind of scared. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

" _Ugh!_ " Navo screams. "Why am I _such_ a _fuck-up?_ " 

"You aren’t a fuck-up," Devon pants, nigh-drenched by the waves outside. "He probably isn’t perma-dead. Give it time." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You feel a flitting urge to snicker, but the gravity of what you've seen is bearing down. Regardless, you stole some of Devon’s dice a _while_ ago, it's a miracle he didn't notice – it's almost like you have intimate knowledge of ignorance and its manipulation, lmao – you make the VOI-D4!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

" _Devon!_ " she says, whipping around. "What the fuck? If he didn’t hate me before, he certainly does now. I’m dead, doomed, rest in peace, _me!_ " 

Navo's calm is gone. 

_ Why did I do this? _

_ Why did I think this was a good idea? _

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You keep hearing the Dark Gods urging you, their voices emanatingfrom the _**FURTHEST RING**_. _Or is that_ _just_ _you?_ Fuck it, nothing matters anymore, not right now. Your (potential) boyfriend’s (potential) ex has pretty much _killed_ him. You process the brimstone with a slash of a knife just harsher than it needs to be. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo casts her mind back, looking for a solution – damn her quick temper – but it's no use. _Can_ she give back the Life she's taken? Who fucking _knows?_ Not Navo, if he even said anything about it. _Think, think, think_ …  "Cruella de Belle!" 

The guide looks up. "There are two Players collapsed on your couch." 

"How, um," Devon says, "guide, how do I fix that?" 

"One can be revived naturally," the guide says primly, a gesture generating the image of an olive-green rose. "The other needs true love’s kiss." 

"Fucking... Fairy tale bullshit," Navo declares. "I call _bullshit!_ " 

"Um… Navo," Devon says, "who’s your true love?" 

"Not mine, idiot. Dirk’s." 

"Um…" 

"You know, the one that’s PASSED OUT." 

"Then get Tommaso. Or you kiss him." 

"I doubt it would work if I kissed him, but I’m not talking to Tom."

"..."

"..." 

(There is a lull in the conversation.)

(Cruella de Belle takes Devon's measurements.)

"Well…" 

"Well, what?" 

"Any excuse to make out with a sleeping person would be great." Devon shows no sign of discomfort or awkward feeling. "So I’d like to try. I mean, it requires some serious fucking love just to try to kiss a l – loser like him." 

"I don't think this counts as sleep," Navo points out. "I’d try - but again, I doubt it would work and I’d probably just make a fool of myself." 

Devon leans over Dirk’s unconscious body and, trying to forget that he’s a pleb, pecks him on the lips. _Gosh, he's warm..._ He pecks him harder.

(It's not a peck anymore.)

(Navo taps him on the shoulder.)

Devon rises. 

They wait. 

"Nope," he says. "Didn’t work. Get Tommaso." 

"Hey! I could still try!" 

"Then do it." 

"Fine!" 

She looks at Dirk for a second, then quickly kisses him. 

Nothing happens. 

"Well – "

Dirk moans. 

His eyes flutter open. 

"If this were heaven," he says, pointing weakly at Devon, "you wouldn’t be here. And if this were hell…" He points at Navo, then falters. "We’re in hell, aren’t we?" 

"Her kiss brought you back to life," Devon explains. 

"How the _fuck_ did that _work?_ " Navo demands of the world. Her head is in her hands.

"I was going to try to make amends about Derse," Devon continues, "but then I had to kiss your dirty lips. And it didn't work. It was for _nothing_ , so thanks for that, Quintana." 

"Wait, wait, _wait –_ "

"You…" Dirk trails off, a look of horror on his face.

"I feel sick," Devon complains. "That was _my_ first kiss, too. _Sigh_. What a waste." 

Dirk jumps up, his head cracking against the wall. "What the fuck?" His gaze leaps wildly between Navo and Devon. "What the…" 

"I need to burn my lips clean after that, honestly," Devon says, the picture of nonchalance. 

"My guide said you would wake up with true love’s kiss," Navo explains, "so we both tried, and you woke up when – after _I_ …" 

"Basically," Devon sums, "Navo accidentally almost killed you and you could only be brought back by a kiss." 

Without another word, Dirk runs to the kitchen and begins rubbing dish soap across his mouth. "Thabpt’s greabp," he moans. Close behind him, Devon grabs the soap and washes out his own mouth, albeit more casually. 

"I feel loved," Navo mumbles. 

" Debon  _ kibbed _ me." He spits.

"I tried to thpave you athpole." 

"And so did I!" Navo reminds him. "I kissed you, after Devon." 

"Yeah. Yeah, I _got_ that, Navo." He shakes his head (though he might just be swishing the soapy water around.) "Devon…" Dirk sighs begrudgingly. "Appreciated." 

"You two," Navo declares, "are wimps." 

"Whatever," Devon says, ignoring Navo. "You’re welcome, I suppose. Can we say we’re even?" 

"Um, no," Dirk scoffs, grabbing a cup of cold tea and downing it in two swallows. "But you’re closer to repaying me." 

"But you woke up after _I_ kissed you…" 

"Fudge you," Devon says decisively, stomping out of the kitchen. 

"Hold up!" Navo says. 

"Navo," Dirk says carefully, "Let’s just stop right there…" 

"But \- "

" _Navo_ ," Dirk says, "Tommaso inspires passion i me, but you’re the one in this session who I’m probably the closest to emotionally. You know me the most intimately. That’s probably why the game registered you as my ‘true love’." 

Navo’s face twists in anger. "Just get out of my house, get _off_ my planet, and get _out_ of my _life_." She storms off to her room.

"Oh," Dirk says, staring up after her. "Great." 

In the next room over, Devon can't seem to decide whether to grimace or smirk. Either way, he and Dirk are going to _chat._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo falls onto her bed and stares at the ceiling. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk sighs and throws himself down onto the couch _not_ occupied by Ali’s still-unconscious body.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo fails to keep herself from crying. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Cruella de Belle hovers beside Dirk. "You _really_ fucked that one up, _mon ami_." 

"Is that so?" he says, considering his fingernails.

Being the impatient fuck that he is, Devon steps back into the room. "Don’t be so sad," he suggests. "I mean, I can’t be _that_ bad of a kisser." He glances at the guide. "Hello, Miss Cruella."

"You," she replies. " _Héritier idiot_. Sit." 

"You," Dirk says, standing to meet Devon, "are _insufferable_. And," he says, his voice taking on a different cadence, "you are also _extremely hot_ , which makes you even _more_ insufferable." 

"Okay, _garçons_ ," Cruella de Belle says, rolling her eyes. "I need to talk to both of you." 

Devon sighs and sits down next to Dirk. "She said to sit," he informs the other boy (still standing). "It’s polite to listen to your elders – or, really, anyone smarter than you." 

"Thank you, Heir," Cruella says, smiling, but it honestly looks more like a scowl.

"It’s a good thing neither is present, then." 

"Sit, Dirk!" _Maybe on my lap… No, wait, bad Devon_. 

Dirk leans against the arm of the couch instead, anyway. 

"This," the guide says pointedly, "is about the game. And how it works. Now, I’m not supposed to just outright tell you, but this is _pressé_. And in the name of love. 

"Wait," Devon says, raising a hand. "I have a _question pressée_. Was I called hot?" 

"Yes," Cruella says over Dirk’s protestations. "But not in the way you’re thinking." 

"Oh." _Bummer_. "Whatever." 

"Please, Devon, don’t get your hopes up." At this distance from him, Devon can probably feel the heat radiating from Dirk, but whatever, it’s too late now to move. "I have standards." 

"Anyway," Cruella says, "if you quit your bickering, we simplymust _discutons_ that kiss." 

Devon suddenly feels rather scandalous. "You have standards? I am better than each and every one. You know I am," he says, chuckling and blindly, um, patting Dirk’s, ah, leg. 

_Not like you’re feeling it up, or anything._

_Shut up, asshole._

Dirk is ignoring Navo’s guide. "Devon, you are despicable to me _in omnis via_. Trust me, you meet _none_ of them." 

"I do not _only_ meet them. I exceed them. I’m perfection incarnate. Now, I believe we are supposed to listen." 

"Only because I prefer her to you." 

"Shut UP before I SKIN you BOTH and DECORATE this HOUSE with your HEADS!" Cruella barks. " _Mon dieu_..." 

Devon jumps, not having forgotten the incident with Satanguide. Dirk turns his head to Cruella, utterly nonplussed. "Do you need something?" 

"You _both_ need to _shut up_ ," Cruella says. "I need to talk to you about something _importan_ _t!_ " 

"I could focus better if Dirk didn’t have an obvious _trique_ for me," Devon says, smirking inwardly. 

"Get over yourself," Cruella derides. "You’re nothing to get excited about." 

"Rude." 

"The guide’s right," Dirk drawls. "If I had a _trique_ for you, it would be in your face right now. Your _head_ is at my _waist level_.  Also, can you two quit with the French?" 

"Are you implying I’d stoop so low as to put a two-incher in my _mouth?_ " 

"Devon, you don’t even look _flexible_ enough to suck your own dick." 

"Okay," Cruella interrupts, "that kiss. _l'amour vrai_ is nothing to mess with. I’m sorry to say that not even _this game_ can mess with it." 

"You’re joking," Dirk deadpans.

"Oh my goodness," Devon says. "So that means… what?" 

"Navo is really my true love?" Dirk says, raising an eyebrow.

"I don’t lie about true love, _mon cher_." 

"I’m more flexible than you might think," Devon murmurs. 

"I’d love to find out _how_ flexible," Dirk says, smirking. 

"Don’t be lewd, she might - "

"You know I can hear you, right?" Cruella says. 

"Fine with me, love," Dirk says, looking everywhere but the guide. 

"As I was saying – "

"So what does Dirk being Navo’s true love _mean?_ " Devon inquires. "Why do _I_ have to be here?" 

" Because, on the other hand, when  _ you _ kissed him - "

" Oh, goodness," Devon interrupts. "When  _ I _ kissed him - "

"Wait," Dirk says, paying attention again, "what’s going on? I woke up when Navo kissed me, why does Devon matter?" 

"Well," Cruella said, "you _reacted_." 

Devon blushes profusely. "I did not _react!_ " 

"What?" Dirk says. 

"It was just my first time, is all!" 

" _Le, pas vous_." 

" Oh,  _ Dirk _ ," Devon says  in recognition.

" _I_ certainly didn’t _react!_ " Dirk says indignantly. "I didn’t even wake up!" 

"My lips got you hot and bothered," Devon says triumphantly, "and it was barely even a peck." 

"You reacted," Cruella says decisively. "Anyway, Heir, I think the Prince needs to go talk to his _princesse_." 

"Wait!" Devon says. " _How_ did he react? Specifically. In detail." 

"Okay, first off, Devon, there are other parts of your body I’d prefer to make me hot and bothered. Second, guide-girl, I did not _react!_ " 

"Lewd, Dirk!" Devon sings out.

"Tell me how I _reacted!_ I didn’t even wake up!" 

"You clearly enjoyed the kiss," Cruella says, "it just couldn’t wake you up because he’s not your true love." 

"Hehehe," Devon snickers. "Boner." 

"I’m still stuck on the idea that Navo is my true love."

"I don’t choose your true love," Cruelle says. "You do." 

" _What?_ What is _that_ supposed to mean?" 

"It means," Devon says, "don’t get a boner with every peck on the lips."

"You’re oblivious." 

"I agree, miss guide," Devon says in agreement, agreeing. 

"I know!" Dirk agrees too. "I’m trying to rectify that!" 

"True love comes from the heart, not from a hat." 

"...now you’re just making stuff up," Dirk says. 

"Um…" Devon says, deep in concentration. "It comes from your heart, not your head? Is that right?" 

" _Thank_ you," Cruella sighs. 

"???" 

"I’m a genius," Devon explains," unlike my not-so-genius friend." 

" _???_ "

"You may think you love someone," Cruella advises, "but your heart is telling you you love Navo." 

Devon pats his leg again. "It’s okay. Not everyone can be as smart as me, Dirky." 

"Listen, _guidey_ ," Dirk says, advancing, "do you really think you can dictate what I feel? I know perfectly well what I feel, and what I feel is that I’ve got a huge fucking crush on Tommaso and _have_ for the past four months." 

"Your heart says otherwise," the guide says. 

"How would you know?" 

"Maybe he has a thing for riding dick, Cruella," Devon puts in. "We already know Dirk is a little less than straight." 

Cruella rolls her eyes. "I know what true love is, dear." 

"One part of you skins dogs, and another part married one," Devon points out. "You sound a little mixed up yourself." 

"That isn’t the topic at the moment." 

"But it does call into question your credibility." 

"Yeah, listen, guide-girl," Dirk says, flopping back down to the couch next to Devon. "If you’re not going to prove to me you’re right, I’m ignoring this." 

"Listen yourself, Blood Prince. I’m the one with all the knowledge about how this game works. If you want me to tell you how it works, I will, honey." 

"I have the same knowledge as you do," Dirk says, eyes narrowed, jabbing a finger in the guide’s direction. 

Devon’s eyes widen. "How?" 

"I took the knowledge from Satanguide. Those experiences had to go somewhere, didn’t they?" 

"I see!" Devon exclaims. 

"Then tell me, dear," Cruella invites him. "How can you beat the Black King?" 

Dirk falters. "I don’t… The Black King will be by far our most difficult enemy; he has all of the prototypings of all of our guides, though I’m guessing he no longer has Satanguide’s prototypings…" Dirk trails off. 

"Exactly my point," Cruella says. "You don’t know everything." 

"You kill him," Devon says helpfully, "with killing materials. Teamwork and stuff. Powers." 

"I know general things about Sburb sessions, not ours specifically," Dirk says.

"You kill him with true love," suggests Devon. 

"I do know that I’ll be instrumental in his death," Dirk says, trying not to let on that he’s making things up as he goes along. "I’m the only offensive player here." 

"I mean," Devon says, "one of those is _probably_ right." 

"But if we can break his scepter," Dirk says, "that’ll make it easer." 

"I’ll have to use my scepter - "

" Darling," Cruella says, interruping Devon’s guesses, "while Satan isn’t part of the Black King anymore, Cruella is, along with  _ multiple _ dogs. The King will  already be tearing  himself to pieces  by the time you get there ."

"Oh…" Devon says. "So it can’t be that hard to kill him _then_." 

"You don’t know that," contradicts Cruella. 

"Well, if he’s trying to kill himself…" 

"At this point," Dirk sneers, standing, "I can only conclude that your idea of my love is purely conjecture. You’ve got no way to prove this to me." He pauses. "Unless you have anything else to say, I’m leaving." 

The guide leaps in front of Dirk, rerouting the Prince as he heads for the door. "Go talk to Navo." 

"Yeah, Dirk. Talk to her."

"What, like she wants to see me right now?" 

"Go talk to Navo," Cruella says, "and I won’t bug you about the true love thing." 

"Yeah," Devon says. "Do it." 

"This game is going terribly," Dirk mutters. "And don’t tell me what to do, Devon, it makes me want to do the opposite out of spite." 

"Don’t do that, Dirk," Devon says immediately. "Don’t kiss me, either." 

"Prince," Cruella repeats. "Go talk to Navo." 

"Shut up, Devon," Dirk says wearily, climbing the stairs to Navo’s bedroom. 

"Dis _gus_ ting pleb. Anyway," Devon says, addressing Cruella now, "I should get going. You have _beaucoup_ to do." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On her bed, Navo sobs silently; her shoulders shake… 

"Navo," Dirk says without preamble, pushing open the door. 

"O \- Oh." She scrambles to sit up, though it's kind of pointless. _It's not like he wouldn't know_ anyway. "Hey." 

Dirk lets the door click closed behind him and sits, pulling his knees to his chest, not acknowledging the tears and speaking as quickly as he can. "Your guide keeps saying I’m your true love, and I don’t want to lie because I’d rather just do this as quickly as possible, and I don’t see how I could be." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ear to the door, Devon barely hides his gasp of surprise. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo looks up at him. "It’s a stupid fairy tale. It… true love isn't real, no matter _what_ stupid games say…" 

"No," Dirk says, glaring at the ceiling, "these fucking _stupid_ -ass guides, they always seem to want to help their player – the ones that aren’t Satan. And trust me, Navo, guides know shit." 

"Why are you even talking to me? What are you trying to do? Didn't get enough _pain_ out of me the first time? I’ve got no reason to believe a word that any of those guides say." 

"She told me to," Dirk says, "and I have to believe she has your best interests at heart and that she knows how to achieve those interests and I’m on autopilot because even I don’t want to deal with myself right now so that’s why I’m being so insensitive." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The gossip. My goodness, Devon is _loving_ this. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"I love you, Dirk," Navo says, "but if you’re going to cheat on me _five seconds_ after people claim I’m _dead_ \- and then - _this_ … I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do! This is shit!" 

_That's not why,_ some small part of Dirk recounts, _That's not why I did it_ – but that small part lost to the rest. " Would it be easier if I said I didn’t love you?" Dirk says, and suddenly there’re tears in his eyes, although he's wiping them away, although he's fighting to keep his face a mask, his expression straight. "Because I can lie for the both of us if I need to." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ohmigod (ohmigod, you guys). 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"It…" She falls back onto her bed. "I don’t know. I don’t _know_. I wish this never happened. I wish I never joined you guys with this _game_ , lived by myself on _post-apocalyptic Earth_ for the rest of my _pathetic life_ and then you could have been with Tom and you could have been _happy_." 

"Is that so?" says Dirk, his lips pursed. "I wish I had never joined you in this game. I wish I’d lived on post-apocalyptic Earth for the rest of my pathetic life, because then that whole thing with Devon would never have happened. I wish that I hadn’t entered the game, because then you wouldn’t have died. I wish that I’d died prior, because then you wouldn’t be going through his pain, and no one would have had to die, and I wish I’d never existed because I think Tommaso is really into me, like _really_ into me, and what can I do that won’t break his heart too?" Dirk avoids laughing tiredly. "You, Navo, are no extreme on this scale of morality." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The intensity. It makes Devon’s little heart beat doubletime in excitement. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"I wish Ali never god-tiered me," Navo counters, "‘cause then I wouldn’t have gone through all this shit that’s going on." 

"I wish you hadn’t woken me up," Dirk murmurs. 

"I wish you both would grow up!" comes a shout from outside the room. The blond boy makes his entrance, hair gelled to pretentiously-slicked perfection, as always. "I go up to see how things are going for _one second_ and I hear _that?_ " 

"Devon!" Navo sits up. "What the hell?" 

"I’m gonna beat the hell out of you," Dirk mutters, shaking his head. 

"I wish this," Devon goes on, "I wish that. Guess what, kids? It doesn’t _work_ like that. Make the best with what you have. For instance, why doesn’t everyone just _move on?_ Has anyone considered that option?" 

"God, Devon," Dirk says, the irony on his tongue mostly lost, mostly evaporating, "we were trying to bond through our mutual distaste for being alive." 

"Can’t you tell?" Navo falls back again. 

"That," Devon says, "is the _worst_ way to bond." 

"Devon," Navo says, "just get out of my room." 

"I propose," he says, ignoring her, "a simple game of chance. Everything can be answered… with a _coin flip_." 

"Um, no," Dirk says. "I know what an Heir of Light is, thanks." 

"Come on, even if this doesn’t settle it, you’ll know what you want it to be before it lands. And anyway, the consequencesdon;t _affect_ me - so this is truly a game of _chance_." 

"Devon," Dirk says absently, once again looking at his nails rather than Devon, "have you been researching flippism?" 

"It hasn’t ever steered me wrong. I practically live by it." 

"People!" Navo screams. "Shut up!" 

"Feisty. Tell you what, I’ll do it for you," Devon tells them. "Even if you don’t care, it’s worth hearing what fate has to say." He pulls a coin from his sylladex. "Heads you work out, tails you break up, or… whatever." 

"Wait," Dirk says. 

"Yes?" 

"You’re not seriously suggesting we’re together? I…" Dirk gestures to Navo, an incredulous half-smirk on his face. "I cheated on her." 

Navo sits up again, staring at Dirk. "But we technically never broke up." 

"I don’t know what you are," Devon says, rolling his eyes. "Together? Lovers? Whatever. Just let me flip." 

" Maybe if I had  _ almost _ kissed Tommaso," Dirk continues. "But I didn’t. I  _ did _ kiss him. I made out with him, that’s not forgivable."  _ Dirk, shut up! _

Devon just shrugs and flips the coin, ignoring Dirk. In his hand, the coin lands; he peeks at it and sighs. "Care for me to share, or shall I keep it to myself?" 

"I don’t care at this point," Navo declares. 

Dirk stays silent. _So if we don't_ suggest _something... what's_ he _going to say it is?_

"If nobody cares," Devon says primly, "I’ll just keep it to myself. Fate is a fickle mistress. She has made her choice and it’ll probably happen. It’s not like it _matters_ if I _tell you_ or _not_." 

"So it’s tails," Navo predicts. 

"I didn’t say that!" 

Dirk moves up next to Devon, puts an arm around the shorter boy's shoulders. "How about you tell just me." 

"That wouldn’t be fair, Dirk. _All_ parties have  a right to know." 

" Just  _ tell _ us, damn it!" Navo bursts out.

"A second ago, you didn’t care to hear." 

No one responds to this.

"It landed on…" Devon says, "a side... that was… heads." 

"Oh," Navo says. 

(He’s lying.)

"I just can’t _imagine_ that," Dirk protests. 

(He just doesn’t want Cruella to kill him.)

"Then again," Devon says, "it's only a _coin flip._ It's pretty meaningless.  So just take that how you wish!" 

"Navo," Dirk says, eyes closed, leaning against the doorframe. "Do you know what you want?" 

"Well, yeah… but I’m not the only decision here." 

"Fine, then," Dirk says. "I want you to decide what you think Tommaso wants, and to decide what you think I want, and decide what you think even Ali wants, and add all of those things to what you want, because those four people are the ones in this session that I care about at all." 

"Thanks, jerk," Devon interjects, one hand massaging the wounded ego located somewhere around his chest. "This is what I get for trying to be helpful." 

"Just tell me what the popular choice is." 

"Sigh," Devon says. "My kindness, shunned again." 

"Alright," Navo says, "well, I’ll think about it. But for now…" She stands up and moves to Dirk, quickly kissing him. "That’s what I want." 

_You’re not jealous, Devon…_ " Aw, that's sweet! Sorta. I guess." 

"Oh, for fuck’s…" Dirk looks at her, derision clouding his gaze, then pulls her close to him, pressing his lips to hers. 

"Um… I’m going to leave," Devon informs them. "Don’t have sex, because if she’s pregnant, we’re fucked. We kinda need her." 

"Fuck," Dirk breathes, breaking away from Navo. He glances over at Devon. "I – do you have condoms? Because otherwise I don’t think that was a possibility." 

Devon shrugs, then steps out. 

Dirk looks at Navo. "Alchemiter." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"You were most _definitely_ right," Devon comments as he passes Cruella. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"That’s a thing," Navo agrees, staring up at him. 

  
  


♞

  


"No sex!" Devon shouts. "Cruella, _stop_ them! Too young and _too_ lewd!" 

" Devon, the fuck do you think  _ you’re _ doing?" Dirk calls down. "Get back up here."

"We could really use a third hand!" Navo sings.

"That is totally LEWD!"

Cruella shrugs. "I cannot mitigate the power of l'amour vrai, _mon ami_." 

"I am an innocent CHILD!" Devon shrieks. "I JUST had my FIRST KISS and now you expect me to LOSE my VIRGINITY?!" He wheels on Cruella. "You are the WORST GUIDE EVER!" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Dirk," Navo giggles, "I think we broke him." 

"You know, Devon," Dirk grins, poking his head out of the doorway, "it has to happen eventually. Let it happen now. We won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with." 

"Well, I won’t," Navo corrects. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"I’m not going to lose it in a _threeway_ anyway! _I_ want someone who’ll treat me RIGHT!" 

"Oh," comes Navo’s voice. "Then you should just go home now." 

"I cannot BELIEVE you are DOING this!" 

"Devon," Dirk says, now standing entirely outside of the bedroom. He’s hurt. "You think I don’t care about you?" He tries to slide down the banister, falls, and rights himself, though still managing to descend the stairs in absurd rapidity, his hands on Devon’s waist, pulling him close. "Of course I care about you." 

"This is the best thing ever," Navo says, brushing past them. "Why don’t you two hatefuck and I’ll go play fish with Cruella." 

"I prefer someone a little more _special_."

Dirk leans down to nip at Devon’s neck. "You _are_ special to me." 

"I wouldn’t trust him if I were you," Navo says, grabbing a deck of cards from her sylladex. "He’s got a reputation and this is _not_ helping it." She's only smiling on the outside. 

"Of course you don’t care about you," Devon says, making token struggles that aren’t actually enough to escape. "I, go fuck Navo or something. I need to go." He blushes. "And don’t bite me…" 

Dirk obliges, kissing up Devon’s neck instead. "It’ll be sweet and slow and gentle," he says. "And we _won’t_ do anything you’re uncomfortable with. You think it won’t be special?" He smiles, leans in for a quick peck. "We’ll make it all – about – you."

"You know," Navo says, "we have a guest room down the hall there," she says, pointing down the hall. She deals the cards. 

At this point Devon is a blushing mess. 

_Neck_ _+_ _lips? It’s exciting. It’s, uh, new…_

Another voice interrupts this one. _You don’t want to do something you’re not ready for!_

But: _You do like things that are all about you._

"I don’t know," Devon says, breaking the thread of his thoughts. "You have a girlfriend. I don’t want to stand in the way of true love," he says weakly, and throws a pleading glance at Cruella. 

_He’s kinda hot_ … 

_Shut up, Devon!_

"There’s also true hate, you know," Cruella snickers. 

"True that, Cruell, true that." Navo watches Cruella draw another card. "Got any threes?" 

" _Tu pêche_ , _mon cher_."

"It’s okay, love," Dirk murmurs, holding Devon’s heat against him. "True love isn’t insecure." 

" I don’t know if I’m ready for sex…  I – I'm  not supposed to have sex until I’m married," Devon protests, though he can’t help  noticing himself leaning into Dirk’s body, pressing close.  _ He’s so warm… _

Dirk leans down and firmly pulls the back of Devon’s head toward him, their mouths meeting in a slow, languid kiss. "Come on," Dirk says, between chains of similar osculations. "You know it’ll feel good." 

_Wow wow wow wow_. Devon is kind of… lost in him. Dirk’s mouth on his… _This feels amazing._ He can’t help but to give a soft, gentle moan. 

Dirk smiles. "Give in, love. Nothing matters tonight but you. That is, if you want." 

" _Mon cher_ ," Cruella says, "you know _ton copain_ is cheating on you again, right?" 

"It’s fine with me," Navo shrugs. "It’s just Devon." 

"See that?" Dirk says, returning his attention to the Heir. "True love is secure." 

"We’ll take it slow?" Devon says. "And we won’t do anything I’m uncomfortable with?" Slowly, almost without his awareness, his hips grind up against Dirk’s. 

"Got any _reines_?" Cruella wonders. 

"What?" 

"Queens." 

"Go fish."

" _Devon Hart_ ," Dirk breathes, grinning. "I’ll repeat only once more that your pleasure is the goal here." 

"Got any fives?" 

Cruella hands over a card. 

"Guest bedroom is down the hall and to your right, by the way." 

"We’ll go as slow as you need," he urges, then twists to look at Navo, diverting his attention from the Heir in his grip. "Um, you going to get up? I wasn’t kidding when I suggested a threesome. Thought it could be nice. Besides," he smirks, "two pairs of hands on a needy body are better than one." 

"I’m down," Navo says, "if I’m needed." 

Devon gives a keening whine, pulling Dirk back to stare into his eyes. "What if… I just… Fuck. I need to _fuck_. I need it. I’m all worked up now, let’s _go_." Devon grabs Dirk’s hand and drags him in the direction of the guest bed. "Give me what I want, Dirk," he says decisively. "Don’t disappoint me, I’m putting a lot of trust in you. My first time has to be amazing." 

"Good luck, Dirk," Navo laughs, shuffling the cards again. "Try not to disintegrate the bed!" 

Dirk wrenches the door to the bedroom open, then crashes into Devon, shoving him against the wall and kissing him deep and passionate as he fondles the growing bulge in Devon’s costume. "Fuck," he says, breaking the kiss and removing his own god-tier shirt. "Want help with that?" he mutters as Devon’s fingers scrabble at his own shirt.

Devon smirks and kisses his prince. 

And then, because they're them, they fuck.


	12. Oh, Thank You, Doctor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another two-part upd8. You'd think 500,000 characters would be enough...

Thursday, November 12, 2015: Part 1

"Oh, I don’t know, Barkensoff. Should I tell her?" 

A puppy dressed in fancy clothes (it’s nametag labeled _James Barkensoff, Royal Advisor_ ), _yip_ s enthusiastically. 

Rory considers this. "But what if she rejects me? She has a boyfriend. Sorta. I mean, he did cheat on her, if Devon’s accounts of the tale are accurate." He scritches Barkensoff behind where his ear would be, if he weren’t a skeleton. 

Barkensoff barks again, and Rory sighs. "You’re right. I can’t avoid it forever, and this kingdom needs a queen." He leans back on the throne (it's been alchemited with a recliner) and whistles sharply. 

An elegantly dressed dog leaps forward, sweeping into a bow before Rory, who smiles down at the imp. "Miss Woofter, would you please fetch me my laptop?" 

The imp scurries away, returning minutes later with the laptop in her front paws. Rory graciously accepts the laptop, petting Ms. Woofter’s bare skull. He boots up the computer, and a gaggle of dogs peers over his shoulder to see what he’s doing. 

  
  


**doggishSovereign [DS]** is now **Online!** [2:10PM]

  
  


**doggishSovereign [DS]** is now **private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]**!  [2:10PM]

  
  


"Oh, dear," he whispers, earning a sympathetic whine from Lady Pawster. "This is horribly flustering…" Rory reaches over and scritches the side of Lady Pawster’s skull. (Her tail wags violently, knocking over the butler.) 

  
  


DS \---> CC: Hello, Navo. 

DS \---> CC: I understand that some things may be going on in your personal life... 

DS \---> CC: Hell, I don’t even know if you’ve broken up with Dirk yet. Or if you ever will, but. 

DS \---> CC: Oh my this is embarassing, uh. 

DS \---> CC: Would you, perhaps, not that you have to or anything... 

  
  


"I can’t do this!" Rory yells, burying his head in his hands. One of the dogs, this one a combination of the skeletal remains of Rory's once-pup and the flesh and fur of Ali's fedora-bearing M'Lassie, stretches its neck to give Rory a lick on the cheek. The dogs around him _ruff_ reassuringly. "You’re right, you’re right. If I never ask, I can never get any closure, can I?" 

  
  


DS \---> CC: Would you like to go on a date with me? 

DS \---> CC: I know we don’t know eachother horribly well. 

DS \---> CC: And I know I can be an insufferable asshole 99% of the time. 

DS \---> CC: And, well, you might still have a boyfriend. 

DS \---> CC: BUT! All that aside, I would. Appreciate it. 

DS \---> CC: Maybe when the waves aren’t as bad, we can go flying? 

DS \---> CC: I’ve always wanted to fly on a plane. I never had a chance to travel. 

DS \---> CC: And we can also get to know eachother better! Apart from my arrogant and standoffish demeanor I usually put on for show. 

DS \---> CC: I’m sure my dog’s would love you and

DS \---> CC: look ill even drop the pretentious act for ya

DS \---> CC: this is real me not some mask or stuff

DS \---> CC: im not even that smart i have to use an online theasaurus everytime i chat

DS \---> CC: truth is

DS \---> CC: im not a heartless shittalker

DS \---> CC: even though i pretend to be that sometimes

DS \---> CC: truth is i dont even know WHAT my personality is

DS \---> CC: but maybe we could figure it out together????

DS \---> CC: im so obsessed w/ being detatched from people i never bother to actually develop HOBBIES or INTERESTS

DS \---> CC: im tryin ta be that guy who everyone is like

DS \---> CC: "wow, hes so smart!!!! Rory is cool" but i just end up bein an asshole

DS \---> CC: i just know i love dogs and 

DS \---> CC: i think i may love you????

DS \---> CC: *LIKE you LIKE YOU I MEAN AHAHHHAHA WOW THATS MOVING A BIT TOO FAST THERE

DS \---> CC: shit

DS \---> CC: ill just

  
  


**doggishSovereign [DS]** is now **Offline!** [2:11PM]

  
  


Rory buries his head in his hands, blushing furiously. "Wait. I forgot something." 

  
  


**doggishSovereign [DS]** is now **Online!** [2:12PM]

  
  


**doggishSovereign [DS]** is now **privating messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]**! [2:12PM]

  
  


DS \---> CC: <3

DS \---> CC: Stay safe, love. 

  
  


**doggishSovereign [DS]** is now **no longer private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]**!  [2:12PM]

  
  


"Oh god. I did it. I actually did it!" Rory whoops, punching the air. The dogs around him bark and howl in applause.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali jerks alert on Navo’s couch. 

_What in the hell..._

Stretching, waking more fully from whatever almost-sleep exhaustion she's been in, preparing to leave, Ali pauses.

"No," she mumbles. "No way." 

_Okay, but you totally heard SOMETHING. You know, noises from the real world can CAUSE dreams. They did a study!_

"Not that, though," she refutes. "We're too young. There's..." She shakes her head, a relieved laugh bubbling up. "No, of course not. That's absurd. Yeah, there's no way _that_ was happening." 

Ali shuffles into the bathroom. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory sighs, giving out a few reassuring pats to the head for any pups a little anxious. "It’s okay, I’m just going to Navo’s. She hasn’t responded to my texts, so I want to see if we can talk in person – no, Barkensoff, you can’t come with me – you're an advisor, you have no combat skill – yes, I'm sorry, but it's _true_ –  " Somehow, Rory manages to wade through the masses of dogs, breaking the crowd and full-out sprinting at the SS Dogplane (General Wagtail is notoriously bad at christening his transport). He hops into the giant purple airship, notifying the crew of imps following of his future whereabouts (the Land of Pirates and Rocks) and of the power structure to be implemented while he’s away (No, the Frisbee Table is _far_ too whimsical for this, _Barkensoff_ is to be in control of Doggopolis,  no exceptions. Yes, _fine_ , if Barkensoff dies, then you can appoint the Knights of the Frisbee Table. But make sure they get anything they want to do ratified by the Canumvirate first). 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Without significant delay, the airship touches down on Navo’s planet, landing adjacent her home on what little land is available. Rory salutes his canine pilots before walking over and knocking on the door. A nervous hand runs through his hair, cleans his glasses; nervous feet shift anxiously, testing weight. _Shit, I should have brought flowers._

Dirk opens the door. 

He’s shirtless. 

"Hey," he says casually. 

_Fuck oh god shirtless Dirk_ _\+ shirtless +_ _Navo’s house._ _Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck_ " Fuck." 

"What?"

"Nothing!"

Dirk glances down at his attire. "Oh, I – sorry," the bleach-blond boyblushes, and retreats into the house, disappearing from sight. "Do you want something to eat?" comes a voice from somewhere around the lefthand corner.

"I – I uh Na – Navo is here right?" 

"Um, she’s about somewhere." Dirk reappears inside the bounds of the kitchen. "She’s not in my bed, if that’s what you’re worried about. Devon’s here too," Dirk points out, "do you think we’d fuck with him nearby? And I'm pretty sure Ali is _somewhere_... " 

"Fu \- I, uh, UH, I, mean MAYBE?" 

"You know, Rory," Dirk says, sipping a Coke, "I expected you to be a lot less… stuttery." 

"I’m a b - bit fl - _flustered_ right now." 

"You’re flustered by me? I’m flattered." 

Ali slips through the kitchen doorway, brushing past Rory. "Oh," she comments, "sorry for interrupting!" She is obviously not sorry at all. 

"Virgins are hot, you know," Dirk smirks, shoving Rory just lightly.

Rory’s face turns an unnatural shade of red. "I - I uh, uh!" 

Ali grabs her phone from the kitchen counter and exits, pursued by bear. 

"Damn, kid," Dirk says, frowning. He looks legitimately worried. "Are you alright? What’s wrong?" 

"D – Don't you have a g - girlfriend?" Rory says, though there’s an uptick of hope in his second question: "Did you break up?" 

"Um," Dirk says. "I don’t think we did, no. But if she wants to, I’m okay with you guys dating at the same time. You have," he says, waving his hands in seemingly random ways, "my blessing." 

"D – DATE her why would I want to DATE her hahahaha"

"You asked if we broke up." He sips his Coke. "I think that’s evidence enough." 

"I COULD be asking in the interest of YOU!"

"Well, in that case, thanks for worrying." 

"SO. Why are you shirtless?!" 

"I sleep shirtless," Dirk says, shrugging. "Or, y'know, I lie down with my eyes closed and pretend to be asleep in this hell we've found ourselves shirtless." 

Rory mumbles something about excuses and splits off to the left in something akin to a run, unwilling to embarrass himself further. 

"Inexperienced," Dirk says knowingly to himself, setting down his Coke. He grins. "Hot." 

Rory screams internally. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory breathes deeply, calming himself, collecting himself, and then steps back into the kitchen to confront Dirk again. Or, uh, whoever wishes to approach him. _The fuck is Navo?_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

From a different sector of the house, Navo, sick and damn tired of playing cards, stands, stretches, and ambles outside to watch the waves. 

"Navo!" 

"Oh, hey, Ali. You woke up," Navo says happily. 

"The waves are huge!" Ali responds, her eyes wide, her gestures matching. 

Navo waves as Rory finds his way back out the front door. (Fluster mode: activate.) "You hardly notice them inside, don’t you?" 

"How do you manage here?" Ali wonders. "There’s no space to run around." 

"That’s why I have planes." She shrugs. "Rory, what'chu doin’ here?" 

"H \- Hi Navo," he says, shuffling over, "I just came to, uh, visit!" 

"Navo, did anything happen last night?" Ali wonders idly. "I thought I was hearing something in my dreams." _That golden planet is a lot weirder with moans in the background._

"There may have been something in the guest bedroom," Navo contributes slyly, "and me and Cruella were playing cards." 

"What was the somethin’?" Rory asks, tuning into the Gossip. 

"You should ask Dirk and Devon." 

Rory’s mouth drops into an open O. His mind experiences several stages of logic and thought processing, complex endeavors to say the least, but endeavors which can be summarized in the phrase: _SHIRTLESS!!!_ "Did Dirk cheat on you with _Devon?!_ " 

"Technically, no." Navo smiles. "I gave my consent." 

"I, respect, you, b – backstabbing date???" Somewhere, somewhen, the segment of Rory’s brain that governs linguistics gives up functioning and takes up residence beneath the awning of an abandoned bowling alley, vowing to survive off of whatever it can scavenge or die. 

Navo laughs. "My guide was talking about _hate romance_ the whole time it was going down." 

On her left, Rory makes assorted and incoherent noises. 

"You okay there?" 

"Fine! I’m, I, uh, just peachy!" 

Dirk steps out, closing the door quietly behind him. Leaning against the doorframe, he watches.

"I think something’s bothering you," Navo corrects. _What's this?_ "What’s wrong?" _It's always good to have people on your side..._

"WELL! Will you LOOK at the TIME I gotta RUN!" Rory breaks into a sprint toward the ship, then stumbles to a halt as he recalls it’s being piloted by his puppies back to Doggopolis. "FUCK!" 

Unnoticed at his place by the doorframe, Dirk waves a hand. 

Drawing ungodly amounts of attention by where his airship used to be, Rory slips on the slick stone; the back of his head smacks against the rock in a move that inspires sickening sympathy from all around, and he tumbles into the ocean.

"Rory!" Navo rushes to the edge of the rocks, peering down into the storms that inhabit the waves. 

"Oh," Dirk whispers. 

Ali just shakes her head.

Rory cannot swim. 

"What do I do?" Navo screams at both onlookers. "I’m not _Moses_ , I can’t split the sea!" _Even if that is my quest._

"Good idea," Dirk mutters, but the words are whisked away in the wind that whips the three players. Concentrating, he steps forward, and pushes at the water with his hand; a slim break appears, walls of water imposing on either side, shadowy and chaotic and promising a swift death. "Don’t go in," he tells Navo, "don’t touch that air. Wait ‘til it’s out of the way…" He presses harder, and more water evaporates. Below them, head barely fitted in the water's break, Rory splutters and chokes. 

"Don’t evaporate Rory!" Navo says, grabbing his arm. 

Dirk replies by condensing the split in the ocean to a circule local to Rory, creating a circle of humid air around the purple-haired boy, the pillar of water he’s (barely) treading lowering. Dirk floats out over it, pressing against the invisible weight until Rory is standing at the bottom, drenched, still coughing water from his throat, his lungs with every hyper-moisturized breath he takes. "Can you speak?" 

"JESUS fucking SHIT!" 

"...he can’t fly," Dirk recalls. "He’s not god-tiered." The water around Rory collapses again. "Navo, go get him, I have to stay focused!" (She's already in the water.) _Why, no, I’m not panicking… Yes, there’s another break, that should be enough, fuck, where is he, there he is -_

Flyswimming as fast as she can, Navo breaks the surface, and Rory gasps for air, just as another waves snaps over them – Dirk dissolves as much as he can, but it’s not enough – then Navo and Rory are on (wet) land, coughing sharply, though Navo hasn’t got it half as bad as Rory does. 

Behind them, Dirk shakes his head and kicks off, heading for Derse’s moon. He's had enough near-death for one day. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The fuck is all this commotion. Devon rises to noise that he readily recognizes as the sounds of a _clusterfuck_. Outside to explore he goes. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Are you okay?" Navo says, grinning a little desperately. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon steps outside and takes a moment to just absorb the situation. Honestly. _What the fuck. I_ _rest_ _for ten minutes and all the majestic dolphin shit happens while I’m_ _ignorant_ _._ " Um." He gives a round of applause, and the others turn to stare as he strolls up. "10/10 entry, Navo. You looked like a reverse Olympic diver." 

His hands clenched around Navo’s tier-shirt, Rory doesn’t let go. Staring up at her, filled with adrenaline and euphoria of survival, Rory pushes up and presses a kiss to Navo’s lips. 

Navo backs away. 

"Navo…" Devon chuckles. "Is everyone wanting to kiss you now?" 

"Oh, fuck," Rory whispers. 

"Uh, no, I think just Rory and Dirk," Navo says, confusion passing over her face along with a thousand more specific emotions. _Well. That's one kind of trust._

_"_ I see," Devon says. He contains his happiness. _Another time, old friend._

Rory faints. 

Cruella de Belle just stares. 

"I, uh," Navo says, looking at Rory, "I didn’t do that. Please tell me I don’t kill people by kissing them!" 

Cruella de Belle hangs her head shamefully and floats off back toward the house.

"I think he just got a little excited," Devon says. "And now he’s, uh, passed out, by the looks of things. Perhaps you can talk to him on Derse, if you fly over there?" 

"Maybe…" Navo looks up at Skaia. "But I’ve only ever flown in outer space with my plane. Is there a place to land on Derse?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In a bedroom on the Dersite moon, Rory sits up and proceeds to bash his head against a wall. Recurring unconsciousness, that’s what we’re going for here. "Stupid, stupid, _stupid!_ " 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"No, but it isn’t too hard on foot. Just jump, and – " demonstrates, leaping into the air and hanging there, floating - "it isn’t hard at all." 

"I guess not…" Navo considers this, and a mischeivous smile creeps across her blood-crimson lips (when did she get a chance to do her makeup?). "But I have a better idea!" She seizes Rory’s (limp) body and hops into her aeromobile. 

_Oh, no_. Devon sighs;  his shoulders slump. _Well, I could act all concerned about what_ exatly _that idea could be._

_Or I could just be resigned to it at this point._

"Good luck," he says lamely. Anyway, Devon’s objective at the moment is finding Dirk – _left me ALONE in bed, the asshole –_ but... _I suppose I could do it over text, too._

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **private messaging entropicRelativity [ER]!** [2:22PM]

  
  


EH \---> ER: if you see this Dirk. I just wanted to say... Um... Thanks I guess. That was kind of amazing. I did feel like it was all about me ^_^. Anyway, I think we can say we’re friends now... So... Maybe you could talk to me on my land or something. I think I’m rambling so I’m gonna stop. Bye

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The wind about the Land of Survivors and Indices whistles as imps stare up into the sky (a few blinded by the Skaian solar reflections; more wearing Woofclaw brand sunglasses) at the invasion of LOSAI airspace. (The Canumvirate vetoes a declaration of war on the unidentified object. The Frisbee Table _always_ wants to go to war. Say it'll boost the economy.) The plane barely pulls out of its dive in time, only a hundred feet above the ground; the Land of Survivors and Indices is a dark one (currently on the dark side of Skaia, for the most part), but Rory’s death slab gleams faintly magenta against the background, providing easy location. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Having satisfied his short-term goals, Devon sets off for his own home. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo lands the plane nearby, hiking up and up and up the spiral to the plateaued peak, settling Rory on the stone table. Beneath her, soft grass grows, and if she were to take the time to taste a blade, she'd recognize the scent in the air as lemon. 

She takes a deep breath. 

The Thief of Life fulfills her mythical role. 

  
  


The **Bard** of **Heart** is now **Dead!**

  
  


The Bard of Heart comes to. "Woah, holy shit. Am I in Heaven?" 

Navo grins, waving him over, already skipping down the concentric levels of the peak that holds Rory’s Quest Bed. "Holy shit," she laughs, "what is _that?_ " 

Rory blushes the same shade of pink as his outfit. _That is one hell of a codpiece…_ " Navo, what happened to me?" 

"Get in the plane," she replies, "everyone else needs to see this." 

Gingerly, Rory follows her.

Together, the Thief and the Bard set off for the Land of Pirates and Rocks. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The Prince stands on Dersite stone. 

  
  


ER \---> EH: good, im glad. your first time should be special, and it should make you feel special.

ER \---> EH: if anyone else needs me, tell them im on derse.

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **no longer private messaging enthusiasticHeretic [EH]**!  [2:27PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo lands, retreating back into the comfort of her home. 

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online!** [2:28PM]

  
  


CC: oh my god

CC: oh my God

ER: whats wrong???

CC: I God tired Rory

ER: describe his clothes and symbol, ill recognize the tier. 

CC: well its pink with a heart and a boner

ER: mm. tell him hes a bard of heart. 

ER: ill go into more detail in person. you can come and visit me on derse if youd like to hear more.

CC: bard of heart... sounds kinda dumb

CC: bard like musician? 

ER: he sings about hot sex.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On Derse? _What’s on Derse?_ Being the nosey child he is, Devon just has to see what’s going on. At breakneck speeds, he flies… 

  
  


ER: anyway, im going to go quarantine myself in my derse bedroom. come see me if you want.

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline!** [2:32PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo runs upstairs to her Alchemiter, alchemites a new phone, runs back to her plane. "Rory, you still here?" 

"Yes, I’m here!" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Soon enough, Devon is on Derse. _Now, where is Dirk?_ The most rational suspicion, of course, would be his bedroom.

"Dirk, are you there?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"We’re going to Derse." 

"Is Derse that purple planet?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk lands just behind Devon, touching his shoulder lightly. "Got here before me." He pauses. "How are you? Feeling good?" 

Devon puts his hands atop his head (mussing his _perfect hair_ but honestly he has other things to think about) and nods, if gingerly, if gently. "Yeah, I… do. Did you hear what happened? Rory and Navo kissed!" 

Dirk goes even paler than his usual complexion (a feat) and blinks. "Is that… so? Good for them. Uh," he says, shaking his head as if to put it out of his mind, "did you need to get something from me?" 

"Not really. I just wanted to say you aren’t as completely awful as I may have originally thought." Devon shrugs, smirking. "You’re just a _little_ bit unbearable. And,  ah, I was wondering if we’d do it again at some point." 

Dirk sighs. "I mean, you’re pretty insufferable yourself. But sure." He winks. "Just give me a call… or a PM, rather." _I_ _s th_ _ere anyone I would call insufferable that I don’t want to fuck?_ _It's a whole affair, to be honest._

"Maybe I will, if I’m feeling part _ic_ ularly desperate. Anyway, is there anything new and exciting I should know about?" 

Dirk nods, looking pensive. "Our session is fertile, it turns out. Blitz has bred the universe frog. But we’ll need to kill the Black King to win. I’d like to tell you more, but I need to write some of this up prior, it'll make this that much easier. We can pull the team together this evening and chat it over." 

"Isn’t Blitz dead?" 

"It looked that way, didn’t it?" Dirk smiles and, perhaps due to the uneasy feeling in his gut, Devon doesn’t pursue it.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Hovering over Derse, absent any kind of aircraft, Rory finds himself flying – and completely by accident, too. Navo _did_ throw him out of the window – and he _did_ shriek as he fell – but at some point, he managed to catch himself.

It's actually _really fucking cool_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A smallish boy in a hot pink outfit smashes head-on into the (tastefully wine-hued) rug of Dirk’s bedroom. "Hello, Rory," Dirk says, bemusedly impressed by his… descent. "I, uh – " he finds himself stumbling over words – "I heard you kissed my girlfriend." 

"UH! It was an _accident!_ " 

"Rory," Devon says, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead, "your outfit is _lewd_. Is your god-tier the whore of heart or something? I mean, it’s not just me who sees it, right?" 

" _Your_ color scheme," Rory shoots back, "reminds me of a rotten orange." 

"At least I’m a hot rotten orange." 

"You wish." 

"I don’t need to wish. Anyway, it seems you’ve god-tiered – and it _wasn’t_ because of me." 

Dirk glares at Devon.

"If you ever wished on anything," Rory meanwhile refutes, "the gods that grant wishes would recoil in disgust from your hideous face."

"Is your outfit uncomfortable?" Devon wonders innocently, "I mean, with all that empty space in your, ah, _little_ codpiece?" 

"My codpiece _is_ empty. My dick is _not_ in there." 

"You’re a Bard," Dirk informs Rory. "You’re a destroyer, like me. You destroy identity, self… And, sometimes, romantic relationships." 

"Well," Rory murmurs succinctly, "shit." 

"But passively. You do it without trying, unlike me; it happens by your presence, not by your effort. Maybe you can’t suppress it." 

Rory unzips his codpiece. As he's said, it’s empty. He zips it back up. "Well, at least I have a phallic fanny pack on me at all times." 

Dirk shrugs. "You can learn to mitigate it, if you want. Uh, I think. Navo had the same reaction when I told her she was a Thief and what _that_ meant. But there aren't any bad classes, I don't think. If you learn to mitigate it instead of _using_ it, though, you’ll be masking yourself – which is exactly what a Bard of Heart would do, irony notwithstanding." Dirk considers him. "It isn't hard." 

"Why a Bard? Please don’t tell me I have to sing." 

"You do, _actually_ ," Devon butts in. "Unfortunately for the rest of us. To activate your powers, y'know?" 

"Listen, Diamond, I’ve got no _idea_ why a Bard," Dirk says, ignoring the Heir. "But you are one. Make the most of it... or don’t. As long as our team is,  y'know, _alive_ , I’m fine with it." 

"Sorry for kissing your girlfriend." 

Dirk shivers, almost invisibly, but gives a nervous smile. "Do it again if you want. As long as she’s okay with it, I am too." 

"I don’t think she likes me. The way I like her." 

The silence stretches. 

"Yeah," Rory says suddenly, "this is an awkward line of conversation. I’m, uh, just, gonna – " Rorymanages to back away to the point that he's tipping out of the window, and Dirk and Devon watch the silhouette of a boy in magenta fly itself shakily back to its own tower.

Dirk lies gingerly on his bed, then sighs, rubbing his eyes. "I’ve got one more thing to deal with before the end of the day," he informs Devon. "If you could make sure everyone knows to meet me in here at, say…" He glances at his phone. "7 tonight, it’d be appreciated." 

"I’ll send it in the group chat." 

"Great," Dirk says, his voice muffled by the comforter over his head. "Now leave me alone so I can try to sleep." 

"It's been days. You still think sleeping is an option?" 

"Fuck off." 

Devon knows better than to argue. He just nods and takes off for his tower. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Online!** [2:39PM]

  
  


EH: Meet on Derse at seven. We have much to discuss

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online!** [3:17PM]

  
  


CC: wait what

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [3:55PM]

  
  


VP: Derse? 

VP: Got it. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Offline!** [4:33PM]

  
  


CC: God damn it Ali!!

CC: Can't we have a conversation

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali smirks. _Thank God for invisibility status._

The impromptu base of the community, Ali alights on Navo’s planet in hopes of having a conversation. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Hey, Navo! It’s Ali!" 

Navo opens one bleary eye, glaring at the front door. _Call me again, Ali. I fucking dare you._

"NAVO!" 

_God fucking damn it._ She gives up her ideological crusade and opens the door. "Hey, Ali…" 

Ali examines the circles under the eyes of a girl normally a beauty queen; she peers at the mussed hair normally intricately shaped; she ogles the wrinkled dress. "You okay? You seem out of it." 

"I don’t know," she huffs, " _am_ I okay?" 

"I don’t know." Ali sits down next to Navo on the couch. "That’s why I asked." 

"Rory, he… he _kissed_ me." 

"Oh, my _god!_ " Ali bursts out. "Am I the _only one_ not _thirsty as hell??_ _?_ What is _wrong_ with you people?" She groans in pent-up asexual agony. "Anyway, I have no experience with this so I cannot provide advice." 

"Ugh." Navo tumbles off of the couch and onto the floor and just lies there. "I god-tiered him afterward. Apparently he’s a 'Bard of Heart'." (Air quotes around 'Bard' and 'Heart'.)

"What’s his outfit like?" Ali’s enthusiasm remains undampened by her company. 

"Uh… you don’t want to know." _Shudder. Bard of Heart? More like Boner of Heart…_

"Why not?" 

"He’s got a… a… Well…" 

"A what? Does he have a _cool hood_ like m ine?" 

"It’s, uh... pink? I don’t know if he’s got a hood, but he has a thing _like_ a cape, though it’s kinda all cut up." 

"Cool! What’s his symbol?" 

_You dodged the cod-question._ _I want a cookie for this later._ "It’s a heart, only cut in half, and one of the halves is empty." 

"Oh, nice! Bards of Heart sound cool." 

"I guess so?" Navo shrugs dispassionately. _I literally do not care one iota._

"Not as cool as yours, though," Ali goes on. "What’s yours again?" 

"Thief of Life, I think. I _oughta_ be a Thief of Time, that’s way cooler." 

"I forget mine. Something to do with ‘Heir’, because I share that part with Devon." 

"I think it’s Heir of Hope?" 

"Sounds familiar. I honestly don’t like the whole ‘gods’ idea." 

"Anyway..." Navo sighs, turns away from Ali, just slightly. "I'd like to be alone now, if you would." 

Ali obeys. 

  
  


**doggishSovereign [DS]** is now **Online!** [5:31PM]

  
  


DS: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [6:02PM]

  
  


VP: WHAT IS WRONG

DS: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA IM A FUCKYNGG IDIOOOOITTTTTTT

VP: WHAT HAPPENED? ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT THE KISS? 

DS: YOU KNOW?!

VP: Yes! Navo told me, I’m assuming looking for advice, but I am pretty sure I’m the only person in the entire session who has not had a relationship issue!

DS: I HAVE A HEAD FULL OF STUPID A HEART FULL OF FEELINGS AND A CODPIECE FULL OF NOTHING WHAT DO I DO??!!??!!!!!!

VP: First you have to calm down. Would you like to meet me at my house for a cup of tea? 

DS: ...Alright.

VP: Great!

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **traveling!**!  [6:03PM]

  
  


Your name is Ali Bradford, and, finally, you're having tea with Rory Diamond. The only requirement left to complete is tea with Blitz, and then you'll get your Homegrown Courtesy Merit Badge. (It may prove difficult, given that the last time anyone heard from Blitz was prior to his entry. What his activities in the gamespace are, you have no idea, but given his silence, Rory has suggested they probably included dying.) That Navo. How ungracious, sending you off like that. You smash through the gates to your home. (Honestly, does anyone use these gates but you? You don’t think so. Your way is probably longer, but it’s _much_ more scenic! Besides the parts where you're battling a choking atmosphere just to catch the next spirograph. Dirk's planet is _shit._ ) 

Rory crashes through your window. 

According to your latest PMs with Dirk, Rory and defenestration has become a trend. Together in holy matrimony, til death does them part. In sickness and in health. Except that death is near-impossible under these conditions, so Rory and defenestration are pretty much guaranteed to be forced through the inevitable cycle of limerence, disillusionment, annoyance, hatred, and eventual bitter (yet resigned) loathing, possible divorce notwithstanding. 

"Rory! You've broken my window!" 

"I DON’T KNOW HOW TO FLY!" 

You sigh, brushing impatiently a strand of rogue hair from your face. "Why are you even still _wearing_ that outfit, anyway? It’s… What do you use to describe that? Distasteful doesn’t even _begin_ to scratch the surface.  Devon's mother would have you _hanged._ " _No_ wonder _Navo didn’t want to tell me…_

"Uh, because it’s got a giant boner on the front of it." 

"You are _so...._ Nevermind. _Please_ , I have spare clothes in my room. You look about my size. I beg of you, just change _out_ of that." 

"Hey, no one tells anyone _else_ to change out of _their_ ridiculous getups! Why should I be the only one punished for something _entirely_ beyond my control? Sacred and undeniable, that all men are created equal and independent, that from that equal creation they derive rights inherent and unalienable, among which are the preservation of life, and liberty, and – " 

"Rory, _shut up!_ " 

"Fate works in mysterious ways. And now Fate wants me to walk around with a giant pink boner for the rest of eternity." 

"Okay, ew, that's not a good image." 

"Sorry." 

"You piss me off, Diamond." 

Rory shrugs. 

"This is my house. This is my _home_.  And if you would still like that cup of tea, you have to go change, because I will _not_ have it _defiled!_ " You smile, completely sincerely. You will _not_ have it _defiled_. Exclamation mark. 

Rory makes a big show of doddling about (accompanied by much dramatic sighing and appeals to your humanity), but eventually manages to find the stairs and stomp up them. 

Four minutes pass. 

Little of importance happens. 

"That is the frilliest, pinkest dress I have ever _seen_ ," you say, your mouth agape more in awe than any kind of shock. "I thought I threw that out when I was ten. If I didn't know better, I'd say you actually look pretty good in that... Where did you even _f_ _ind_ it?  And on a related note, do you prefer Earl Grey, or green?" How unpredictable. 

"I _prefer_ English Breakfast, but I suppose Earl Grey will be fine, just this once." He peers down his nose at you, spectacles low on his bridge, an impressive feat given that he's about the same height as you are.

"Keep complaining about the qualities of my tea stash, and you won't be getting anything," you warn. The time it takes to pour two cups of tea later, you've finished pouring the two cups of tea; one is white, and the other, a hue of deep rose. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A knock. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Knockity knock-knock (knock, knock!). You know, the knocking song. The one with the knocks. You never fail to succumb to its supernal rhythm, no matter how hard you try to resist. Damn that knocking song. "Could you get that?" 

"Who is it?" By the sound of the reply (i.e. muffled), Rory hasn’t even bothered to open the door. Typical. He's a rude little asshat. Not as bad as Devon, though. Almost attractive in some ways... 

You shake your head. 

Disgusting. 

Rory screams.

You push past him as he bolts into the drawing room and open the door. Navo stands there, eyebrow cocked "Green? Like last time?" 

"Works for me." 

You wave her inside. "Rory," you call (he slinks out of the study), "could you boil another cup of water?" If he's going to hide himself away for this, he may as well be _useful_ while he's doing it. The majority of your employee feedback could easily be mistaken for dying animal noises, but he does shuffle off to the kitchen, presumably to boil some water. You should probably watch him, but where’s the fun in that? Everyone should burn down their residence at least once in life, you believe. It’s a character-building experience. On the other hand, the sunlight reflected off of your planet’s surface is bad enough in the first place, though… 

"Oh, Rory’s here?" 

Another scream. This one’s a little higher in pitch, if you detect correctly. "Yup. Sorry, I didn’t say sooner." 

Navo selects a mug forest green from the tray of your lounge. 

"Rory, come join us." (You suppress a smirk, remembering his current attire.) "Navo needs her water. Which will soon become tea." 

"I’d rather not meet his outfit again, thank you," Navo denies. Your stop suppressing your smirk, which grows steadily into something worthier of the descriptor 'sadistic smile of schadenfreude'. 

"Don’t worry. I made him change out of that." 

"Good." 

Rory inches out from behind the kitchen doorway, his screams dimmed down to a humming sound (if still comparable to the average police siren). You grab the near-boiling water from his hands, pour it deftly into Navo’s cup without spilling a drop, and thrust it into her hands. "Rory," you say conversationally, "are you okay?" 

" _He_ was the one screaming? I assumed that was you. Purely by pitch, you understand..." 

"I think he's a bit embarrassed," you suggest, false empathy spreading sweetly across your double-crossing tongue. "This is a safe space, honey." 

Rory buries his head in his hands and sits as far away from Navo as possible. Navo lsnickers and drinks her tea. You hand Rory his mug and viciously mouth at him: _Fucking socialize, you wuss._

He frowns and mouths something that could be _What? o_ r _Mwat?_ orpossibly _Butt?_ You're pretty sure the whole Miraculous Mouthing Talent thing only works in books. 

"So," Navo says, setting down her mug, "neither of you like your god-tiers, do you?" 

"I’m okay with mine," you contradict her. "The color scheme is a bit bland and also my powers seem lame, but other than that - acceptable." 

"Yours is bland?" Navo says in disbelief. I’m wearing gray!" 

"Mine’s fine," Rory squeaks. "For me. It’s pink." 

"We've gone over this, Rory. I _will not stand_ to have that attire in my house. I was raised here. I _could've_ been the one to raise my _children_ here. Also, I look like a banana in mine. I don’t think I’ve worn it since I god-tiered." 

"I look ridiculous in mine," complains Rory. 

"I look great," Navo shrugs, smirking. 

"Navo," you say, "I love those boots." 

"Yes," she agrees, idly stroking them, "they are simply the best there are." 

"So…" Oh no. Oh, god, no. You’ve run out of conversation topics. 

You know what comes next. 

"I'M SORRY!" Rory blurts. 

"For what?" you say innocently. 

"I thought I told you what happened," Navo says, obviously directed at you, and you elect to sip your tea thoughtfully, as if you hadn’t obviously heard her. A nearby Bard emits some strangled noises. "Rory," you say, really getting into the character of _Person Who Does Not Care #3_ , "really, why are you so flustered? It’s no biggie. _I_ heard people doing the _diddly-do_ while I was at Navo’s! A kiss is no big deal!" 

"YEAH, but I’m supposed to be the COOL and COLLECTED one!" 

You and Navo exchange a _look_. 

"Um," says Navo. "No, honey, you aren’t." 

(Apparently _those_ really _do_ work, even outside of literary tradition.)

"You’re not supposed to be _anything_ , honestly," you add, and immediately feel a tiny stab of guilt. That probably means that you just went a little bit too far, but, again, it's a _tiny_ stab, so you shrug it off, no problem.

"Well, I mean, she has a _girlfriend_ ," he says, cupping the mug in his hands as though clutching a prized barber, who the FBI has come to capture, informing him that his favorite barber is secretly a Communist, and the year is 1919, and it's the middle of the Red Scare, and he doesn't know _who_ to trust anymore. 

"I wouldn’t say that," you say thoughtfully, sipping tea. "Dirk may _think_ he has relationships, but trust me, that boy is all _over_ the place. Wasn’t he hitting on _you_ at Navo’s?" 

"Well, yeah. But still." (He doesn't seem to have gotten the clue of the emphasis on ' _you_ '.)

"That boy," you continue, "can _not_ be trusted. He literally destroys relationships." 

"Uh," Rory says, "same. Dirk told me that I passively destroy romantic relationships." 

"But passively is unintentional," you remind him. 

"Yeah, but I still wreck them." 

"I thought his cut symbol meant relationships? How can two symbols mean the same things? No, it must mean something different," you conclude. "He was _lying_ to you, Rory." 

"Romantic relationships, I think," he says. "Stuff that comes ‘from the heart’, so to speak. Emotions, passions, romance, etc." 

"Oh," you say, mildly disappointed. "I see. Mine is optimism, faith, and belief. Or so I’ve been told…" 

He frowns and very much does not take the bait. "What is your god-tier, anyway?" 

"Heir of Hope. I share the Heir part with Devon." 

"Oh, yeah, I saw his. Do you have that _obnoxious_ windsock hood as well?" 

"Yes! It's, like, what – _ten feet long?_ It’s  HUGE!" 

"I don’t think _I_ have a hood. Just a  weird, shredded-up cape, and this _thing_ that looks like the top of a banana. But pink." 

"Be glad it's not yellow. Or, y'know, an actual banana."

Rory's eyes narrow incredulously. "Ali, _why_ would I wear an _actual banana?_ " 

"Well, _I_ don't know, do I? I'm not you. Right?" 

"Correct. From what I’ve been told." 

"God bless." You finished your tea a long time ago. Now you’re just raising an empty mug to your lips every tenth second. "Have anything you’d like to bring up that has any _significance?_ Now would be the time." You stand to boil more water. 

Standing in the kitchen, you hear a crash of breaking glass.

God damn it.

When you return to the sitting room, Rory’s chair is empty. "So I guess that answers my question." 

"He ran out the window," Navo informs you.

"Typical." 

"Um, Ali, quick question: have you had your first kiss yet?" 

"No, why?" 

"No reason. You just happen to be the only one out of all of us." Navo takes a sip. 

A few pleasantries later, the two of you part ways, and you cease to be the Heir of Hope. 

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Online and in a mood** **for jazz**!  [6:31PM]

  
  


CC: is anyone alive? 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [6:33PM]

  
  


SS: I am

CC: right on time.

SS: need anything? 

CC: I’ve been playing jazz music for a long while now and the waves are actually calm

CC: I think the jazz controls the weather

SS: that makes sense

CC: totally 

CC: but like, there’s no waves anymore

CC: this is my fifth time today playing the pink panther theme

SS: did they disappear the other 4 times u played it? 

CC: well they lowered

CC: I think it’s time for bond

CC: James Bond

SS: its always time for james bond

CC: you should come over

CC: listen to some bond

CC: james- you know what screw that joke

SS: perhaps

CC: bruh just come over

CC: I need to talk to you anyway

SS: alright then

SS: flying now

CC: thank you

CC: bun bun bun nah

SS: lol I cant hear u thru pesterchum

SS: hold on im coming

CC: see ya

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **Offline and playing James Bond**!  [6:36PM]

  
  


SS: navo I can still talk my wings are a laptop

SS: o well

  
  


Meanwhile: 

BUN BUN BUNAH BUN NUH NAH BUN NAH

  


Meanwhile: 

Tom alights on the Land of Pirates and Rocks. "I’m ready for the Bond." 

"And the Bond is ready for you." 

He plops onto the singular Clubb couch. 

She plays the Bond. 

The waves are fucking huge. 

"I don't think the waveslike it," Tom comments admiringly. 

"Damn it." 

A wave smashes against the rock atop which stands Navo's house, and a slab comes crumbling away with the recession.

"DAMN IT." 

Navo sighs and plays Pink Panther again. 

The waves like Pink Panther. 

Tom giggles. "Alright, so, what did you want to talk to me about?" 

Navo’s considers for a moment, and then slides her sax into a blank strife specibus. "Two things." 

"Shoot." 

"Okay, so, this might sound stupid, and it might ruin our mutual purposes, but, one: me and Dirk are back together, and, two: Dirk and Devon hooked up. I don’t know if anyone _told_ you – " 

"Oh," he says, loudly enough to interrupt Navo. _A surprise_ , he observes. _Not a pleasant one._ He manages to fight the urge to wring away the smile on his face and, even more impressive, displays no change of expression doing it. "No, no one told me. I’m sure they'll tell me soon, though. Like you did!" _Dirk trusts me. Right?_

"I don’t know," Navo says, her eyes fixed on Tom's. "But this all happened while Ali was almost-sleeping on my couch. After I knocked out Dirk, I brought him _back_ because Cruella de Belle gave us this ‘true love breaks the curse’ speech and it was a whole _affair_ and apparently I’m Dirk’s true love ‘cause it worked when I kissed him." 

"Well," Tommaso says, smiling fixedly, "just putting this out there, but perhaps a Disney guide isn’t the best source of information concerning true love and waking people up. The company does have quite a track record to match." 

"But it worked, didn’t it?" 

"I mean, I heard from the D – from a couple of Dersites that any kiss can wake up a player up if they have a dream self. But he doesn’t have one… because he’s god-tier." 

"Yeah." 

"That’s supposed to mean he heals really quickly, right? Like, conditional immortality too and that stuff." 

"I took his Life, Tom," Navo says, smugly, tauntingly, or at least it seems that way to Tom.

"A lot of _stuff_ could have _happened_ ," Tommaso growls. "There’s too many variable to tell exactly what it _was_ _!_ " Tom is trying his best to suppress his jealousy. _Dirk is mine. He chose me. I already_ won.

"Tom, I get you’re mad, but it’s _too much_ of a coincidence that Cruella said that, then Devon kissed him and _it_ didn’t work, then I kissed him and it did." 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging sexySlytherin [SS]!** [6:42PM]

  
  


ER \---> SS: can we talk???

ER \---> SS: if you can meet me on derse sometime before 7 tonight, thatd be appreciated. 

  
  


"Sorry, give me a sec." 

  
  


SS \---> ER: sure, wut about

  
  


_This is happening too fast._

  
  


ER \---> SS: id rather tell you on derse. 

ER \---> SS: you shouldnt be worried... i think.

SS \---> ER: alright ill be there soon

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **no longer private messaging sexySlytherin [SS]**!  [6:43]

  
  


"Sorry, I have to go, it’s urgent." 

"Alright, we’ll finish this talk later." 

_Yeah, good fucking luck getting me roped into_ that _again._ And Tommaso flies off to Derse. 

  
  


Your name is Tommaso Mambelli. You want to call _his_ name, but you fear talking to him. You don’t want to face rejection. _What are you worried about? It’s not like he’s_ going _to reject you, right?_

"Tommaso," Dirk says quietly. "It’s Navo, we need to talk about… Navo." 

"What about her?" 

"Her guide said I was her true love," Dirk says. "But I don’t feel the way for her that I feel for you." His voice kind of tapers off in volume; the latter half of that sentence is barely audible. 

"What… are you saying?" 

"I feel more for her platonically than I do romantically, and for a Disney guide that might be what it takes, it’s not like you’ve ever seen a Disney princess get fucked in a movie. But you…" Dirk reaches out to touch your jaw, then pulls his arm back, a pained look in his eyes. "I’ve wanted you for months." 

"M \- months?" 

Dirk nods, just staring at Tom’s chest, not looking him in the eye. "Four, to be exact." 

"So… I still don’t understand," you say, "so… Are you single now?" 

Dirk buries his face in his hands. His voice is muffled. "I don’t know. Navo seems to think we’re back together…" He sighs, heavily and audibly. "I want everyone to be happy enough that we don’t all decide to murder each other again." 

_Eh, close enough._ You open your arms invitingly, but he's not looking at you, he's looking away, he's grimacing – 

"I knew she was going to try to confront you, I _knew_ it, I had to interrupt her, I can't let this happen – " 

You pull Dirk into a kiss. 

Dirk moans against you instantly, pushing back, but breaks the kiss. He turns away, the heels of his palms pressing into his eye sockets. "We should be talking to Navo about this, together." 

You groan. You don’t want to talk to her, she’s trying to _steal Dirk_ from you… 

But he was originally hers. 

You suppose she has a right to at least _talk_ to him, if he wants to, too. "Fine." 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]!** [6:47PM]

  
  


ER \---> CC: meet me on derse. 

ER \---> CC: soon. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **no longer private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]**!  [6:47PM]

21 21


	13. Oh, Thank You, Doctor (Part Two)

Thursday, November 12, 2015: Part 2

"Do we really have to do this?" you say, smiling hopefully. "We can just sneak around and not tell her about it." 

"Yeah, that’s a great plan," Dirk says, lying on his bed. "It didn’t get us killed last time… On the other hand, you do know all there is to know about secrets." 

"Last time I wasn’t god-tier, _nor_ did I know that I was supposed to keep it a secret!" 

Dirk considers him. "...so if you wanted to keep something a secret," he says, carefully, "do you think that your god-tier powers would let you make someone forget something if you wanted them to?" 

"Hm." _That seems... subversive. Is that okay?_ " Well, I never tried. I’m sure with practice I could, though!" _Come on. You can do it. For Dirk!_ You look down at your arms. "I was mainly focusing on, uh..." (You concentrate, and from your wrists down, your hands become translucent, then slide right into invisibility...) "on _this_." 

Dirk smiles. "That is _cool_ , Tom." 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging carbonatedCorpse** **[CC]** **!** [6:48PM]

  
  


ER \---> CC: wait, did devon already tell you that??? 

ER \---> CC: whatever. the whole team should be here on derse by 7 tonight, so pass on the word - we need to strategize for an upcoming battle. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **no longer private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]**!  [6:49PM]

  
  


"Right," Dirk says, rubbing his eyes. He seems to be doing that a lot today. "Well, that’s _that_ done with… and suddenly I’m experiencing an inexplicable certainty that it’s also the _worst possible_ _decision_." 

You smile and wrap your arms around Dirk’s neck, looking up at the boy you're rapidly beginning to suspect may be your, ah, _true love_ , and press against him. "It’s going to work out fine." 

You can feel Dirk’s grin on your cheek. He pulls the gathered neck of your tier hood downward, exposing your collarbone, and kisses it gently, with closed lips. He does this repeatedly, each time progressively higher on you, until his kisses reach the nook between your jaw and the flat of your neck, and you freeze, reveling, loving the feeling… 

"I’m glad you’re here," he murmurs. 

"Me too." 

Dirk pulls you down onto the bed, and you proceed to have some sicknasty makeouts. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Oh my god. 

Oh my god. 

Oh my _god._

That was embarassing as _shit._

Rory's flight back to his land was shaky, and, upon reaching the Land of Survivors and Indexes, immediately overwhelmed by a veritable sea of anxiety-ridden, skeletal woofbeasts.

  
  


CC: this is my seventh time today playing the pink panther theme

  
  


_"_ _Oof –_ no,I'm fine, no, I didn’t drown – well, I – well, yes, nearly, but – no, Navo saved me – no, but she will be soon, it's only a matter of time – _yes_ , I'm sure, Nightingtail, I _don't need_ a medical exam, do you see any blood? I'm sorry, I'm stressed, it's nice to be back, dears – who's a good boy? _Who's a good boy?_ " 

  
  


CC: well they lowered

  
  


Meanwhile: 

  
  


CC: I think it’s time for bond

  
  


She plays the Bond. 

  
  


CC: James Bond

  
  


The waves continue to not like the Bond. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Hello? Anyone home?"

Ali Bradford is visibly anxious, shifting from foot to foot, her eyes flicking nervously about the... house. 

Rory’s, um, _place of residence_ is… huge. It doesn’t look like his server player built it - it’s a vast, sprawling castle. Around it is a thriving metropolis, where doggish imps sell doggish wares in doggish marketplaces and hang their doggish laundry outside their feudal cottages. The door to the castle opens, a doggish dog (dressed in doggish butler drab) peering doggishly up at Ali. 

"These dogs are too cute," she mutters critically to herself, files away the doggish thought for future doggish reference, and follows the dutler (doggish butler). 

Ten minutes into the city, the dog opens a door to a massive throne room, at the far end of which is the glinting dais on which Rory resides. A golden and lavender-velvet throne supports his weight as he leans back, allowing a nearby servant the opportunity to feed him grapes from a platter that Ali is tempted to call silver, except that is it oddly dull. Atop Rory's head is percehd a crown of beautiful engravings, although of course you cannot see them all from here. 

The dog-butler barks once. 

"Rory," Ali says before the boy can do anything, enunciating slowly and clearly, "what the ever-living fuck is this? Where did you even _find_ grapes in the game?!" 

"This, Ali," he says with a wide, sweeping gesture, "is my kingdom. _Part_ of it, anyway. There is also a location on Derse." 

"It’s amazing, Rory, but don’t you think you should be planning to fight the Black King? It really seems like the kind of thing you _don’t_ want to go into blind." 

"I’m not gonna fight him, that’s your job." 

"Excuse me? You’re a part of the group as much as anyone!" 

"Yes, but I’m not exactly the most offensive. I don’t even have a strife specibus allocated." 

"Neither am I! My god-tier is literally being ‘protected by Hope’. Not exactly the most offensive thing." 

"Yes, but you have a specibus." 

"Because my father showed me how to use a bow at a young age. I didn’t really have a choice. If I did, I wouldn’t have one either." 

"Listen," Rory says placatingly, "I wasn’t going to get involved in the fight. I’ll be a huge advantage. You just have to trust me." 

"Well, then, you should be _planning_ , at least! Where’s the kitchen? I – I want to make some _tea_." 

"I don’t need to plan, Ali. The time for plans is past; all of mine are complete. Do you know how many dogs live here, on LOSAI alone? Over a million. Do you know how many are left under the rule of the black king? _Only_ a _thousand_. And those are the ones who were programmed with Cruella. They’ll probably  just find a way to kill themselves." 

"It’s good to always have a back-up plan just in case." 

"I’ve raised an army as a last resort. They will fight the Black King. But I don’t want to endanger my subjects." 

"Honey," Ali says, clasping his hand and doing her best to ignore his ignoble and unfortunate fashion choices. "Listen. They’re _game construct_ _s_. Even if they weren’t, they’re dogs. What can dogs do against a  boss king? They weren’t even meant to follow you in the first place. I have no _idea_ how that  even _happened_."

" They’re imps as well  as dogs , Ali. And not  _ just _ imps." On cue, a  graphite Basilisk slithers down  one long side wall from a  subtly Basilisk-shaped  hole in the ceiling.  _ Nice touch, that, if I do say so myself. _

"Rory, it’s starting to get… unhealthy, for lack of a better term." Ali's head turns minutely to put the giant, serpentine thing in the focus of her eye, and a chill excites her spine. 

"It’s not unhealthy. These are my subjects, and I am their King. I love them." 

Ali drops his hand. "Rory, I want to help you. You’re _delusional_. You’re meant to _kill_ these things for _grist_. I don’t even know how you’re making by  in this game without it!" 

"I do have grist. The imps dig them up for me." 

" _How_ in the sweet furnaces of – "Ali breathes in, slowly and deeply, and then manuevers her hands calmly over her face. "Y'know," she says, conversationally, "originally I was under the impression that _Tom_ was the  typical stoner archetype, but you _have_ to be on _something_.  Is it mercury? Are they giving you mercury? It didn't work for the Emperor of China, and it's not going to work for – " 

"I’m not consuming mercury. How do you think we built this city? Every brick comes from the grist ofour great Grist Mines." 

"Rory, you cannot find grist in mines. They are _exclusively_ enemy drops." 

"No? Obviously, my imps have proved otherwise." Just as he says this, a small imp scurries up, a piece of grist carried between its teeth, as if to prove his point. (And it is, of course.) 

This serves to make Ali look a little more disgusted, but not much else. "I’m telling you, they only come from imps and other enemies." 

The imp drops the grist and moves to walk away. Rory bends over to pick it up, and the imp, staring at Ali, clearly and deliberately, draws a finger across its skeletal neck.

"These things are going to kill you eventually," Ali warns. _It’s really cold in here._ She's sweating. 

"No, they aren’t." The imp softens its gaze as Rory waves at it, giving an affectionate _woof!_

It sounds distinctly like laughter .

"Don’t come crying to me when you’re overpowered by these things." She begins to turn away, and pauses, speaking more softly, now. "You should really pick a strife specibus, you know." 

Rory sighs, fed up with these flighty broads and their mysterious, esoteric antics, then bends over to retrieve a random bone from the floor of his hall. "You think this will do?" 

"If you sharpen it. The key to any weapon is easy entry, difficult to remove." 

Rory stands, stalks off (quite a feat given his minimal stature), allocates the bone to his strife specibus (still in motion), and beckons Ali into the next room over. 

" How did you even  _ get _ this many  _ books? _ "

Glistening, violet daylight shines in from all sides, strips of colored glass in a thousand shades laying beams of lavender light across a gray, crushed-velvet carpet, near-pitch, across bookshelves that line every wall alternately placed between purple windows to create a dazzling display of literature and beauty. 

Rory selects a book from the royal stands, flicks to a seemingly-random page. "Bone magic, here we are. I’ve been meaning to read up on this." He glances back at his visitor. 

Her mouth is wide open. " _Magic?_ "

Rory smiles. "Of course." 

"Well... I bet I have a more practical alternative." She snatches the bow from her sylladex, its neon pink flashing, captivating in the multicolored violet hues of the royal library. "I mean, it’s _bright_ _pink_ , but what’re you gonna do." 

"Hang on." Rory places his bone on the ground and mutters an incantation under his breath. Images of the same bone arise from the original, pop into being, razor-sharp and levitating threateningly in the air. 

"Be careful with those, my god!" 

"It’s fine, I can control them. It’s not like I haven’t used _magic_ before." 

"Uh, alright. Because, y’know, _everyone_ uses _magic_ nowadays, it's _so much cooler_ th – " 

Suddenly, literal tons of dogs burst forth and leap into the air with wild abandon, gnawing viciously on the bones of their fallen brethren. Rory giggles.

"Rory," Ali says, "this is enough. Those dogs are cre – " She sneezes. 

"Still got those allergy suppressants?" 

" Not o - " She rather abruptly leaps wholeheartedly into the Noble and most Ancient House of  _ ACHOO! _ Behind her, the same dog-doc as earlier scurries over, taps her shoulder, and presents her with more allergy suppressants. "No, thank y - "  _ ACHOO _ . The dog urgently shoves the medicine at her, barking. "No, no, I’m really f - "  _ ACHOO! _

"Take the medicine, Ali." Rory himself grabs the bottle and downs 2 pills.

" You’re allergic to dogs? Then why do you ha - "  _ ACHOO. _

"Because I like them." 

" Oh, oka - "  _ ACHOO. _ " They made me feel drow - "  _ ACHOO. _ " So I don’t want t - "  _ ACHOO! _

"Just follow them with caffeine. That’s what I do." 

" No, it’s fi - "  _ ACHOO! _

"You’re going to sneeze your brains out." 

" You know wh - "  _ ACHOO!!! _ " Give me the fucking me - "  _ ACHOO. _

Rory gives her the fucking me.

She throws them on the floor. "I DON’T WANT TO B - " ( _ACHOO_ ) "SLEEPING IN THE MIDDLE OF A SUMME \- " ( _ACHOO_ ) "AFTERNOON!" Or, y'know, whatever these do when it's nigh impossible to sleep. Unless the drugs can get past it?

"Aren’t you god-tier? Why do you still have allergies? I mean, I still have mine, but maybe I just haven’t tried hard enough to get rid of them." 

" I don’t kn - "  _ ACHOO! _ " I can’t hea - "  _ ACHOO! _ " I’m not a  L if \- "  _ ACHOO!!! _

"Take the pills. Drink some tea. Jesus _Christ_." 

A dog retrieves the pills, waits for Ali to open her mouth in the next explosive sneeze, and practically slam dunks the pills into her mouth. Instinctively, she swallows. 

"RORY! What the _fuck?_ " 

"Scritcherpaw, that was rude. But thank you." 

She coughs. "You could have fucking killed me!" 

Rory is hugging Scritcherpaw, and accordingly ignores her. Scritcherpaw stares into Ali’s eyes, malice burning in his canine soul. 

The rest of the visit continues similarly. 

  


♞ 

  


Minutes in the past, but not many... 

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging doggishSovereign [DS]!** [6:22PM]

  
  


ER \---> DS: devon said hed tell everyone, but since you banished him from your land i figured you might not have heard. 

DS \---> ER: What is it?

ER \---> DS: i intend to hold a planning meeting for the black king tonight on derse. 

ER \---> DS: 7 o clock sharp, can you be there? 

DS \---> ER: Of course I can. 

ER \---> DS: can you deal with devons presence if neither of you speak to the other??? we need everyone we can get to fight the king. 

DS \---> ER: I don’t think I’m qualified to fight the Black King. 

ER \---> DS: if youre really convinced youll die against him, thats not worth the battle. but we can discuss it on derse. 

ER \---> DS: devon doesnt have to be there. 

DS \---> ER: I don’t have any offensive is all. And I don’t have that much beef with Devon. He’s just not allowed on my land. 

ER \---> DS: the meetings on derse.

DS \---> ER: I understand. I’ll be there. 

DS \---> ER: Hey, you dated Navo. 

ER \---> DS: ...

DS \---> ER: Two questions: 1. Is Navo allergic to pollen? 2. Does Navo prefer dark or milk chocolate?

ER \---> DS: ive got no idea.

ER \---> DS: see you there. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **no longer private messaging doggishSovereign [DS]**!  [6:27PM]

  
  


♞

Back in the present. 

Ali wipes her nose again with the sleeve of her tier pajamas. _Thank God these things keep themselves clean. I can't imagine..._

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]!** [7:41PM]

  
  


VP \---> CC: Rory really likes you, Navo. Like, to wildly odd degrees. 

CC \---> VP: that is odd. I think

VP \---> CC: It’s kind of scaring me.

CC \---> VP: its not like hes gonna kill Dirk

VP \---> CC: I know, but he even knows you won’t reciprocate his feelings and he’s still trying. 

CC \---> VP: hes kinda creepy

VP \---> CC: Just thought I should tell you. He might make a move soon; I don’t know. 

CC \---> VP: well... thanks for telling me

VP \---> CC: You’re welcome! I don’t want you to go through it blindly and let him down hard. Then again, I have no experience in this department. 

CC \---> VP: thanks anyway

VP \---> CC: Also, did you think it was odd that I’ve never had my first kiss? Sorry; just curious

CC \---> VP: no! it’s not odd at all

VP \---> CC: Oh good!

CC \---> VP: (:

  
  


♞

  
  


A very small amount of time in the past. 

  


**doggishSovereign [DS]** is now **Online!** [7:39PM]

  
  


VP: Hello, Rory. What’s new? 

DS: Oh, nothing much. 

ER: where are you two???

VP: I fell asleep after having those allergy pills. Which I said was the complete opposite of what I wanted to do. So thanks for that. 

DS: Come on, Ali, at least you didn’t have a severe allergic reaction and die. 

VP: It was just sneezing. 

DS: Well my allergies are worse, I just assumed yours would be too.

ER: guys, come on, i said 7. 

VP: They’re still pretty bad, as you saw, but not enough to kill me. 

DS: I wasn’t the one shoving them down your throat. I’ve had a harsh word with the doctor. 

VP: You mean the dog? 

DS: Yes. 

ER: for fucks sake... 

VP: Oh my god.

DS: I have something to ask you, Ali. 

VP: Is it important? 

  
  


**doggishSovereign [DS]** is now **private messaging vividParadox [VP]!** [7:41PM]

  
  


DS \---> VP: Does Navo like me? 

VP \---> DS: Define "like".

DS \---> VP: Does Navo enjoy my company. Does she think I’m a good person. Could I, perhaps, be her friend? 

VP \---> DS: Ah, "friend." Yes, perhaps. Friend. I haven’t talked to her much about your relationship with her. I wouldn’t know. 

DS \---> VP: I’m just. I know she doesn’t "like like" me, Ali, and it fucking hurts, especially when you’ve had a crush on someone for months, but I at least want to be her fucking friend!

DS \---> VP: I don’t have many friends. 

VP \---> DS: Everyone in the session is your friend! We all care about you, Rory. Never forget that. 

DS \---> VP: As if. None of you give a shit about me. I’m just the weird Dog King that’s such a fucking asshole that I can’t make any positive relationships with any human beings. 

VP \---> DS: Rory. Don’t think so lowly of yourself. Don’t let what your phony title is supposed to mean start to change who you are.

DS \---> VP: I’m a Bard of fucking HEART, I’m doomed to eventually destroy everything I love, and not even consciously! My mere presence is enough to destroy everything and I can’t turn it off!

VP \---> DS: This is what I mean! You’re letting your god-tier define you! Your god-tier is bullshit just so you know!

DS \---> VP: Well I’m still right on the fact that I have no friends. The imps are game constructs, right? WHAT HAPPENS IF WE WIN THE GAME THEN??!!!?!! THE ONLY TIME IVE TRIED TO REACH OUT TO SOMEONE THEY PULLED AWAY AND LOOKED AT ME LIKE I WAS DISGUSTING. 

VP \---> DS: Rory, I thought I would consider myself your friend. If you see otherwise I cannot stop you, but I would just like you to be aware of the fact that you are not friendless. 

DS \---> VP: What kind of friends are we, Ali? You hate my clothes, you hate my dogs, you think I’m on drugs just because I’ve found comfort in something that isn’t human. Are you just my friend out of pity, or a sense of obligation? 

DS \---> VP: As you have made clear, I have 0 redeeming qualities. 

VP \---> DS: I do not hate your clothing, I just think it could be less phallic. I do not hate your dogs, I just think they are distracting you from the plans. I never thought you were on drugs, I just thought you were delusional. And by saying you have 0 redeeming qualities only further proves my point of you being delusional. 

DS \---> VP: Oh yes because "delusional" is so much better. 

VP \---> DS: I’m sorry. I’m not the best at this. I’m just trying to help you, Rory. 

DS \---> VP: Look, I’m sorry I’m not an active member of the team. I really am. But I don’t want to fuck things up for any of you ever again, and pursuing my interest of Navo would just make things worse. Maybe I should just cut contact with all of you altogether. 

VP \---> DS: NO

VP \---> DS: That is the exact opposite of what you should do!!!

DS \---> VP: What should I do then, Ali?! I’m a burden. 

VP \---> DS: No you aren’t! You should try to talk to us more! 

DS \---> VP: I’m not good at talking. 

  
  


DS: Goodbye. 

  
  


**doggishSovereign [DS]** has now **destroyed his computer!** [7:53PM]

  


ER: god damn it. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **probably screaming!**!  [7:53PM]

  
  


"Guard the perimeter!" Rory commands, thousands of armored dogs following his lead and guarding any entrances to the city, spears raised. A man approaches one of the guards at the main gate, and the dog readies his spear as it recognizesa familiar face. 

"Bark, bark!" _Confess_ _your business here._

"I’ve come to offer my alliance. I’ve heard the stories. Your little king here treats his subjects far better than my Queen, an’ he has a grudge against the other humans. I think we could be good friends." 

_"_ Woof! _"_ _Weapons_. 

The man sighs, removing several playing cards from an a variety of sundry pockets and dropping them to the ground. The dog _arfs_ as it escorts him into the kingdom, a gate of wrought iron opening barely to allow the slim man inside, and closing with a rather definite **slam**. 

"Ruff, arf: woof _."_

_Welcome, Jack._

  
  


♞

  
  


Rory glares down at the pitch-skinned Carapacian who is, at the moment, _very definitely not_ kneeling before his throne. "State your business." 

"I wish to ally myself with the winning team. Our Queen’s a rotten sort and you seem like the best alternative for the Midnight Crew to follow. What do you say? Do we have ourselves a deal?" 

"Tell me about this ‘Midnight Crew’ and I might consider it." 

Jack tells him about the Midnight Crew. 

He considers it. 

They have themselves a deal. 

  
  


**spadesSlick [SS]** is now **Online!** [8:00PM]

  
  


SS: I bet this ain’t the SS you lot wanted right now.

VP: Pardon my French, but... 

ER: who the fuck are you???

VP: That was my line!

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Online!** [8:01PM]

  
  


EH: I apologize for my absence I’ve... 

EH: Who’s this? 

SS: Formally, an associate of your associate. More commonly known as the leader of the Midnight Crew.

VP: Am I the only one missing something? 

SS: I’m a Mafia godfather so listen up because I don’t have time for you kids.

EH: then why talk to us if you’re wasting time? 

ER: its nice to meet you, spades. dirk quintana, prince. 

ER: at your service. 

SS: I need to send a message. The King ain’t comin to your bullshit tea party on Derse. 

ER: yes, well, thats a relief. 

ER: hes on the battlefield, isnt he???

EH: why was I not alerted of a battle. 

EH: kind of a teammate here. 

SS: Not my old king. My new one.

SS: Spades Slick, royal advisor and General Major of LOSAI. 

SS: At your service. 

ER: the land of... 

VP: Rory.

SS: Yes, that’s the one. Tacky pink dick costume.

VP: Oh my god!!

ER: what did he offer you??? 

SS: Power. 

EH: my god. 

ER: and, what, youre heading his army against the Black King with us???

VP: This is going to hell. Way too fast.

EH: so many back handed deals

ER: no, no, slick can be hired. 

ER: hes a game construct, its allowed.

EH: how do you know? 

ER: i killed my guide, remember??? absorbed his knowledge. 

EH: are you sure that’s how it works? 

SS: Not exactly, Mr Quintana. 

SS: And we’ll see who’s the game construct when you’re a pile of dust on the ground. 

EH: I don’t intend on being a pile of dust any time soon

VP: Guys, I’m scared.

ER: does rory know you intend to kill us???

SS: He practically planned the whole shebang once I gave him the idea. 

ER: why would he want to??? 

ER: whats in it for him??? 

SS: Officially, it’s just if you oppose him. But I’m a very good forger of evidence. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging** **spadesSlick** **[** **SS** **]!** [8:03PM]

  
  


ER \---> SS: hey, no, i entered "doggishSovereign".

SS \---> ER: im using his account with a different chumhandle, dumbass. 

ER \---> SS: oh.

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **no longer private messaging spadesSlick [SS]**!  [8:03PM]

  
  


VP: What the fuck is going on? 

ER: we have no way to contact rory besides to speak to him in person. 

ER: i suspect his new general wont make it so easy. 

SS: Damn right. I only got in through an old friend.

VP: I’m willing to try. 

ER: spades, who do you know inside rorys sovereignty? 

SS: Slick, boy.

SS: Who don’t I know inside his sovereignty? I’m a Carapacian. Leaders of the imps. 

ER: the carapacians dont lead the imps!!

ER: if you were still loyal to your king, you should have just been trying to kill us, the players. 

ER: ...i fear that satans knowledge of a typical session may not be as applicable here as i had hoped. 

SS: You got some kind of hallucinations, kid?

ER: what?

VP: Satan.

ER: oh. long story. 

SS: We may not be leadin em, but we’re still the big shots. And I’m a Mafia Godfather. I hate the fucking Queen. 

ER: why not team up with us to kill her, then??? neither of us like the dersite royalty. 

SS: More power in sidin with Ol King Pinkdick here. 

SS: I’ve wasted enough time. 

ER: wait!! you think your imps can kill the black queen??? 

  
  


**spadesSlick [SS]** is now **Offline!** [8:07PM]

  
  


ER: shes programmed with the power of ALL out guides!!

ER: you cant win without us!!

ER: ugh, theres not even any use. 

ER: all right, then. 

ER: everyone online, get to derse. NOW. 

ER: theres been a change in priority. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **making ready for the coming war.**!  [8:09PM]

  
  


EH: I can’t. I must sit in my home and mope

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Idle!** [8:09PM]

  
  


ER: oh, come on.

ER: youre the luckiest one HERE. 

ER: luck is a big factor. 

ER: ugh, ill be right back. theres... something i want to check out. 

ER: well, can anyone ELSE come, then, since devons apparently being a bitch AGAIN???

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **idle but can still see the chats jerk**!  [8:10PM]

  
  


ER: well get over to derse then!! plans to make.

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **currently moping**!  [8:10PM]

  
  


ER: WHAT are you even moping ABOUT???

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **not going to derse**!  [8:11PM]

  
  


ER: a reminder to the team:if you want to live, we need to work together. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Idle!** [8:11PM]

  
  


ER: unity is strength. 

ER: division is death. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **says the one who literally has the power to separate things**!  [8:11PM]

  
  


ER: i can destroy unity. i can also destroy WITH unity. 

ER: destroy their unity with ours. 

ER: i dont have time for this. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Offline!** [8:12PM]

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging sexySlytherin [SS]!** [8:12PM]

  
  


ER \---> SS: youd think that no one is even PAYING ATTENTION to the group chat. 

ER \---> SS: you saw what happened right??? 

SS \---> ER: ha no

ER \---> SS: ever since i pulled that knowledge cache from satan, ive been wondering where the dersite agents were. theyve been SUPPOSED to be trying to kill us. 

ER \---> SS: the archagent has finally emerged. 

ER \---> SS: long story short, spades slick has allied himself with rory, and now theyre going to kill us. devons a bitch, and ali and navo are either offline or (mostly) ignoring my messages. 

ER \---> SS: we cant wait. we have to move against slick NOW. 

SS \---> ER: got it! so what is devon a threat or is he just being devon

ER \---> SS: he just says hes "MOPING".

ER \---> SS: all caps courtesy of me, not him. 

ER \---> SS: so -- the plan. 

ER \---> SS: there are two positions of dersite royalty: the black king and the black queen. 

ER \---> SS: each has a ring, prototyped with the power of everything our sprites have been prototyped with... thankfully, we destroyed satan, so its just whatever all of you put in your kernelsprites. 

ER \---> SS: thats what they were called when they first came out of that machine, was kernelsprites - when they hadnt been prototyped yet. 

ER \---> SS: prototyping is when you put the thing in and it makes the sprite look like the thing. 

ER \---> SS: i got a lot of technical jargon from satan too. 

SS \---> ER: lol I can tell

SS \---> ER: so prototyping is programming and spriets are guides?

ER \---> SS: oh. 

ER \---> SS: uh. anyway. 

ER \---> SS: slick hates the black queen. im grasping at straws here, to be perfectly honest, but if he kills her he could take her ring, and THATS whats important here. 

ER \---> SS: slick apparently leads an army of rorys imps. but the black queens ring could make him devastating by himself. 

SS \---> ER: so we kill her first and take her ring? 

ER \---> SS: yes, exactly. 

ER \---> SS: im going to send out one more message to the others, just to make sure. i want to be as safe as possible. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]!** [8:15PM]

  
  


ER \---> CC: navo, we need you. come to derse asap. with just me and tommaso thisll be a suicide mission.

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging vividParadox [VP]!** [8:15PM]

  
  


ER \---> VP: ali, we need you. come to derse asap. i cant take this on alone. 

  
  


CC \---> ER: wait so I’m gonna kill myself? 

ER \---> CC: its a phrase, navo. 

ER \---> CC: meant to highlight the fact that well die if we try this alone. 

ER \---> CC: youre a good offense player. come with. 

CC \---> ER: oooooooo

CC \---> ER: kk

ER \---> CC: from now on, derse is my base of operations. got it??? 

CC \---> ER: ooookay then have fun with that see ya in a sec

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now no longer **private messaging carbonatedCorpse [CC]!** [8:17PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

To the planes! 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Since you totally left Dirk’s bedroom during that, y’know, timeskip earlier, you say goodbye to the Dark Gods and fly over to Dirk’s bedroom. 

You weren’t that far away, anyway. Just not paying attention. 

_Y'know,_ _Navo_ _got_ _shot in Dirk’s real bedroom_.  That shouldn't be funny... You giggle anyway, but get to work drafting a severe reprimand for whichever Dark God is fucking with your sense of humor _now_. 

"That didn’t take long," Dirk comments. He’s leaning against the window’s edge, looking around, chewing his lip. "Why is it always night here? It’s making me _paranoid_." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In the center of the four towers on Derse’s moon, Navo lands. Dirk waves to her from his own. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Derse is scarily close to LOPAR tonight," Navo tells them both as she hovers outside the window. 

"I haven't quite grasped yet how the revolutions of these moons work. Nor have I tried."

"Hi, Navo!" Tom says, significantly less dark in tone compared to Dirk's weak attempt at baritone. 

"Hey, Tom!" 

"Come inside," Dirk says quietly. He steps back from the window to allow her entry. "There’s nothing that makes me more nervous than planning a murder out in the open," he mutters. 

"So since Ali is MIA, Rory’s working with the enemy, and Devon’s being a 'little bitch'," Tom says, "I guess it’s just us?" 

Dirk nods, then pauses. "Actually, Blitz isn’t dead, just MIA too. But other than that, I suspect so. And…" He purses his lips. "You know that too, I told you about Rose during the timeskip."

"During the what?" 

"Nothing. But, uh, I guess he saw something else in the timeline that couldn’t be avoided." Dirk hands Tom a note, Pesterchum headings handwritten. 

  
  


**fantasticalOrchestator [FO]** , it says,is now **private messaging entropicRelativity [ER]!** [this timestamp is going to be irrelevant by the time you read this.]

  
  


FO: _see_ _Ya_. 

  
  


**fantasticalOrchestrator [FO]** has left board **MY HAT**.  [still irrelevant.]

  
  


"I didn't know you could _do_ italics in that program."

"Neither did I." 

"Someone tell me what’s going on!" Navo moans. 

Dirk takes back the note as soon as Tom is done reading it. "Here’s the state of events. Rory is allied with Spades Slick - the enemy. Devon is off somewhere _moping_. Blitz is hold up on his hand.  To be honest, I've got _no idea_ what this thing from Rose is supposed to mean." 

"Wait, what did Rory do?!" 

Dirk rubs his temple with one hand. "Slick went to him seeking an alliance, Rory agreed. But Slick’s a Dersite archagent. His purpose is to kill all of us. Rory, apparently, was not aware of this. Regardless of Rory's various states of knowledge and ignorance, Slick claims he’ll have forged evidence of our betrayal of Rory." 

"I would expect as much from Rory, to be honest," Tommaso says, nodding. 

"At this point, I think we're assuming that we’re the only ones left who intend to procure the success of this session. Ali might just be doing her own thing, and we know that Blitz is, but we can't count on that. The King and Queen of Derse have rings of some sort, which bestow upon them the power of all the players’ prototypings – uh, the power of all the _guides_ , combined."

"So we can be _Satan?_ " Tom says eagerly, his eyes alight with a terrible flame of childlike mischief.

"No." 

"What a ripoff," Tom mutters to Navo, who nods in mock soberity, her perfect eyebrows high on her made-up forehead. 

"They won’t work on players, but they _will_ work on Slick –  which is why I want the Black Queen dead and her ring taken before he can get to it. Two birds, one stone, I thought it'd be efficient. Understand what we’re doing now?" 

"I'm still bummed we don't get to transform into the devil. But, yeah, I get the plan." 

Navo says nothing, but purses her lips, which Dirk takes as assent. 

"Satan’s out of the loop, thank god. Him and the Horrorterror Rory prototyped my guide with – I'm sorry, _programmed –_ their presence has been removed from the game. Since, you know, I killed him." 

"Yeah, a Black King fight with that would be nigh impossible!" Tom's eyes sliiide to the left. "You okay, Clubb? You haven't said a thing since you found out Rory’s allying with Spades." _Come on, you've got to see what I'm getting at, it's so obvious, don't fuck_ _this_ _up, Navo..._

"Huh?" Navo looks up at Tom, looking disoriented. 

_god fucking shit fucking_ "I said, you okay?"

"Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?" 

"You just," Tom says, realizes that he lowkey doesn't care, and changes tack: "seemed a little out of it. If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine." He refocuses his attention. "So, what, we just walk into the Dersite castle through the front doors and kill the Black Queen?" 

"Easy," Navo appends. 

"...I hope so," Dirk says lamely, his hands falling to his sides. "Oh, but it's a cathedral. Not like there's much else here." 

"There aren’t any other agents of importance, really, not besides Slick and the Queen and the Midnight Crew," Dirk says. _Information, any information, take all factors into account._ " I don't know how _active_ the Crew is, exactly, it's not like we've encountered them up 'til now, and we've been running around this moon causing havoc from day one." 

"I can go invisible and kill her when she’s not looking?" Tom suggests. 

"Yes, try that first." _Assets, find your strengths_. 

"Or you guys distract her while I slowly drain her life." 

"Is there any chance you can make us all invisible?" 

"Maybe." Tom considers the idea, his brow furrowing. "I _have_ been experimenting with making multiple things invisible  simultaneoulsy. I don’t think I’ll be able to make all three of us invisible at once, though." 

"Is no one gonna listen to me?" Navo whines. 

"You should do that too, Navo," Dirk says, offhandedly. 

"Oh, I’m sorry, Navo," Tom says. "I didn’t hear you." _Yes, you did… heh._ " What did you say?" 

"Why don’t you guys distract her while I slowly drain her life." 

"Do that," Dirk repeats. 

"Oh, yeah," Tom enthuses, "we can do that!" 

"Yeah," Navo reminds them, "we can. That’s why I said it was easy." 

Dirk stands, pulling his gun from behind the bed. "Navo, Tom, you both know what you’re doing? Navo, we distract the Queen while Tom sneaks up on her. Meanwhile, you can drain her life and I’ll riddle her with bullets." 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **private messaging** **spadesSlick** **[** **SS** **]!** [8:44PM]

  
  


VP \---> SS: Hello? Are you there? 

VP \---> SS: I think people have been making plans in my most recent absence. 

SS \---> VP: Great, more of you kids. Don’t why know I haven’t deleted this account already. 

VP \---> SS: Oh, shit! 

VP \---> SS: It’s fucking you! 

SS \---> VP: Listen kiddo, I aint lettin you speak to the King. Don’t want him to get any funny ideas about me. 

VP \---> SS: Funny ideas? How so? 

VP \---> SS: Are you afraid I have dirt on you? 

VP \---> SS: Because I don’t. 

SS \---> VP: Well, you seem to already know I ain’t the most truthful guy out there. What with me plannin to arrange all of your murders. 

VP \---> SS: MURDERS?!

VP \---> SS: Oh wait! We’re invincible!

SS \---> VP: Not if it’s heroic or just. 

VP \---> SS: Some invincibility if it has loopholes. 

SS \---> VP: I’ll just keep killing you until you fight back, kiddo. I think that qualifies as heroic, opposing a bad guy like me. 

VP \---> SS: Not if we abscond halfway through.

SS \---> VP: I’m fast. 

VP \---> SS: Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. 

VP \---> SS: ...that’s just fantastic. 

VP \---> SS: My only possible responses at this point are in the form of sarcasm. 

SS \---> VP: Listen, sweetheart, I have a goddamned army. Two, in fact. 

VP \---> SS: Fucking fantastic. See how much I care! I have faith in my friends. 

SS \---> VP: Faith doesn’t get you anywhere. 

VP \---> SS: It does when you are the literal manifest of it!

SS \---> VP: Whoop-de-fuckin do. I’ve got the Destroyer of Souls wrapped around my pinkie finger. 

VP \---> SS: Fucking fantastic. I could not be giving any less fucks than I am at this very moment. 

SS \---> VP: Listen kid, I know how this game works. 

VP \---> SS: Really? Indulge me, then.

SS \---> VP: The Black King has already been neutralized. I killed him before he even got his hands on that scepter. My armies overwhelmed him and now he’s a red splatter on the ground. There’s a new king now, and you’re going to have a tougher time fighting him. 

SS \---> VP: In this game, it’s kill or be killed. 

SS \---> VP: And I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. 

VP \---> SS: Why are you even taking orders from a prepubescent kid, anyway? 

SS \---> VP: He’s takin orders from me, and he doesn’t even realize it. 

VP \---> SS: I see. A figurehead. But only to himself. He doesn't have to convince anyone else. You’re intelligent, I’ll give you that. 

SS \---> VP: He’s gullible. 

VP \---> SS: I was already aware of that. He’s too pliant for his own good. 

SS \---> VP: He still thinks he has a chance with that girl he likes. I’m gonna kill her last, make it look like she’s the bad guy. I can only assume he’ll off himself at that, or go berserk and I can make his death a Just one.

VP \---> SS: Marvelous plan, mister. Now, would you like to explain why you’re telling your whole plan to the enemy force? 

SS \---> VP: How do you even know this is my plan? I could be leading you all on. 

VP \---> SS: This seems like a good plan to me. Why wouldn’t someone want to flaunt their genius? 

SS \---> VP: You don’t even know my plans for the young monarch yet, and that’s the backbone of this whole shebang, so even if these plans were true they’re just a front. 

VP \---> SS: That’s swell, man. Just wondering, why the fuck would you want to kill a bunch of teens in the first place? 

SS \---> VP: I’m a Derse Archagent. It’s sorta my entire purpose for existing.

VP \---> SS: Targeting underage kids. Seems like the goal of a pervert, if you ask me. 

SS \---> VP: I don’t have an age. I’m a fucking metaphor for a chess piece. 

VP \---> SS: Well you don’t act like someone younger than us. I’ll give you that. Your comprehension skill is too damn high. 

SS \---> VP: Listen, I’m not all about killing you lot. 

SS \---> VP: I can be "nice".

VP \---> SS: You can be nice? 

SS \---> VP: Rarely.

VP \---> SS: Alright, Mr. Archagent. Compliment me. If you’re able.

SS \---> VP: I don’t do compliments. I do favors. 

VP \---> SS: I respect that. 

SS \---> VP: Here’s a little favor for you. 

SS \---> VP: You can find the young monarch on Derse. 

SS \---> VP: This is your last chance to ever see him again. Try any funny business and I’ll lock you in the torture chambers. 

VP \---> SS: Derse? You’re kidding me.

SS \---> VP: Nope. He’s there alright. 

SS \---> VP: Meeting his new army. 

VP \---> SS: But that’s such a fucking hike! I dream on Prospit. Well I used to. 

SS \---> VP: Just saying, it’s your last chance.

VP \---> SS: Fine. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **no longer private messaging doggishSovereign [DS]**!  [9:00PM]

  
  


_ Please insert Day  _ _ 10 _ _ , Side 3. _


	14. Valium is My Favorite Color

#  Thursday, November 12, 2015: Part 2

Alexis Bradford snatches the bow from her sylladex and flies into space. (PCHOOOOO.) Soon – soon _enough,_ although it seems to her that no arrival can be soon enough, here – Derse enters view, and, by extension, its moon (though it’s all splotchy, due to a complete lack of decent glasses). Several ships hover over it ominously. As she approaches, Ali’s vision becomes clearer; she spots a lone Rory out of the middle of the mess of military meddling (a game of chess where she is Queen and King-less). 

_Oh, god._

It appears that he's somehow managed to make that outfit even _more_ obnoxious. That dick is absolutely _covered_ in tacky, obvious rhinestones and cheap jewelry (Does Doggopolis just not have any _good_ jewelers?). His hood is down, and an ornate crown sits upon his head.

"You did it," she says, landing behind Rory, her slow clap adding at _least_ +1 point to Ali. "You glitzed your dick beyond the capacity of the human mind. I literally cannot comprehend how glitzed your dick is. You deserve a reward." 

"Did I invite such riff-raff to my sermon?" 

"Excuse me?" 

"You heard me. I, Rory, King of Derse and Destroyer of Souls, did _not_ invite you." 

"The moon is a public planet, Rory."

"Not anymore." 

"Well, I invited myself." An uncomfortable silence. "How's your day so far?" 

"Busy." 

"Interesting. How is your friend Slick doing?" 

"General Slick is doing well." Rory eyes the Heir with cold eyes. "You’ve spoken to him, and that’s why you’re here – or, rather, so I presume." 

"Yup!" Ali's legs lift off the ground and she sits up in mid-air, crossing her legs, arms easily behind her head. Matter-of-factly, "I actually have some rather _important things_ to  tell you about him." 

"Do tell." 

"He’s using you as a figurehead," she says, ignoring the sarcasm his words are soaked in. "He’s planning on killing you." 

"And why should I believe you?" 

"Have I ever lied to you in the past? What would my incentive be to lie to you?" 

"You have plenty of incentive. I’m the King of Derse. You’re meant to kill me to win the game." 

"To win the game, we must breed a special frog. The goal of this game is to breed a frog, which contains the universe. You are not the boss, Rory." She offers a condescending smile. "Get over yourself, hon." 

"You _also_ have to kill the Black King.  I'm the King of Derse. I’m the Black King." 

"The Black King is on Skaia. Like I said, Rory. The main objective is to defeat the Black King and Queen. They are game constructs. You are not a game construct. Who even told you these things?" 

"I have his scepter. The Black King is dead, and I have replaced him. Soon, the Queen will be as dead as he, and then we’ll need a new Queen. I have someone... already in mind." 

"You’re going to die before that happens." 

Rory peers at her. "I won't insult your intelligence by asking if that was a threat." 

"It's not," she says seriously, pulling out her phone. "Spades Slick is here to use you. You can look at the logs if you don’t believe me." 

"Logs are easily fabricated, Ali. Pesterchum is _far_ too easy to hack,  and logs that much more easily forged. That’s why I use my _own_ chat client." 

"Do you think I’m tech-savvy enough to do something like that? I can hardly operate this iPhone, and I've had it for years." 

"What generation is it?" 

"What what is what?" 

"Yes, you're playing dumb. Anyway, Spades doesn’t use actually _use_ Pesterchum. He uses DerseNet, like everyone else. Any logs with him, I assume, are other teammates using his handle." Rory smiles. "You have nothing to worry about but treachery in your _own_ ranks, which is something you've always had to deal with – and always will. Unless you join me, of course..." 

Rage heating her cheeks, a tingling her fingers, Ali's mouth twists into a sneer and she slams the phone on the cold, stone ground, the screen shattering, the case flying piecemeal in every direction. "You _ignorant_ fucking _fool!_ " 

"Guards," Rory says calmly, "please take her away." 

"No – fucking – _no –_ "

A Carapacian head falls to the ground, and his alternate releases Ali's hand. 

"Hello, Rory," Dirk says, landing on the ground next to him. Above them both, Ali floats higher to avoid further restraints.

"Tell me, why _are_ you set on killing the rest of us?" 

"Whyever you would think so, I haven't a clue. That is in no way my goal, provided you not attack me first."

Dirk’s grim smile turns to confusion, and he glances behind him, his eyes suddenly nervous and flashing. "General Slick told me I needed to attack as soon as I saw you next. He said we were in danger from..." Dirk's eyes widen, and he flies bodily backward, not even bothering to make use of his legs. 

Rory raises an eyebrow. "Come back here, Dirk. Slick must have gotten confused; I didn’t order any attacks, come back down here, you're safe. This is probably one of his training things, trying to get someone powerful to attack me so I can learn how to kill. He does that." 

"Get a clue!" Ali heckles. 

"Rory," Dirk calls, "I’m a Prince. You saw how easily I killed that guard, I would’ve done that to _you_ if I didn’t trust you more than I trust Slick. Or, rather, if I wasn't still willing to at least hear you _out._ He’s a Dersite archagent, he’s in the knowledge Satan passed down to me. His whole purpose in this session is to kill all of us and take the throne for himself." 

"Well, I trust Slick more than I trust _you_!" 

"Do you trust him more than you trust Ali?" 

"Yes." 

"Oh." 

Ali floats down, and Dirk follows suit behind her. "Real nice, Rory." 

Dirk gives Ali a rather meaningful-looking glance, though what it's actually supposed to mean she has no idea, then turns back to Rory. "What if we leave Ali here with you? As, uh... credit. Collateral. You know we’d never want anything to happen to her. She's the Heir of Hope, that's practically guaranteed." 

"Dirk!" Ali interjects. "What the _fuck!_ _I know what collateral is!_ " 

" _I_ could stay instead of her if you want," Dirk offers. "As insurance we won’t move against you. I don’t know why we’d want to in the first place." 

"Listen," Rory says, "I’m not a villain. I don’t keep hostages. I’m a monarch, and not even a particularly evil one, either. So I’ll pass." 

"Thank god," comes a mutter from Ali. (Dirk refrains from elbowing her in the ribs.)

"What can we do to make you trust us?" Dirk pauses. "No, scratch that. I believe that Slick will try to make you think we’ve betrayed you. I want that not to happen. So what can we give you to hold as a power over us so important that you’ll know we would never betray you while you have that power?" 

"To make me trust you…" Rory muses. "Give me the Genesis Frog." 

(At the mention of the word ‘frog’, crowds of nearby Dersites retch and spit.) 

Dirk nods. "I’ll have to bring Blitz into this – as you know, he went offline at the beginning of the session, but he’s still alive, of course."

"Naturally."

"Dirk, no!" Ali says sharply. 

The Prince turns to her. "To prevent a certain Mr. Slick from cashing in on our debts, Ali, I think we should give it to him." 

"But what if he kills it?" 

"Ali!" Dirk interrupts, his jaw dropped. 

"Our entire _lives_ in this game would be for nothing! And in this game, our lives are _forever!_ "

Dirk sighs. "He won’t kill it, that’s the point, it’s a _bargaining chip_. As long as he has it, he keeps us under his thumb –  and that means he can trust us." 

"But he’s so influenced by Slick! How can we trust him?!" 

"This _isn't –_ "

"You know what?" says Rory. "No, I don’t need the Frog. You two obviously can't agree. But I _do_ need you to provide a way to ensure that my empire will remain in the new universe."

Dirk and Ali exchange glances. 

"Break the game." 

"Um," Ali begins. 

"Make the game constructs real, and able to pass into the new universe." 

"Ah," says Dirk nervously.

"Figure out how to do that, and I’ll be in your debt _forever_." 

"You want me," Dirk says, "to make it possible for game constructs to enter the new universe?" 

"Yes." 

Dirk’s eyes lower. "Slick is evil, Rory. All he will do is cause havoc and wreak destruction."

"Sharp words from a Prince." 

"And as far as it is within my powers _as_ a Prince," Dirk oaths, "I will keep this promise." 

(Behind him, Ali facepalms.) "This is a suicide deal going down. We’re gonna fucking die." 

"If we don’t do it, either we are or Rory is certain to die _anyway_. I don’t want _any_ more deaths on _any_ moresides." 

Rory nods. "Thank you." 

"I don’t want to die," Ali reminds them. " _Unlike_ you two, _I'm_ not blinded by my own _romanticization_ of the 'chains of leadership' and all the angst that comes along with it. So right now, my top priority is my _own_ life. And you guys are more powerful than me. If  it comes down to it, I can't be left by myself, because I'm _bound_ to die.  Ergo, I need to make sure that we _all_ don’t fucking  die."

Dirk turns, grabs Ali by the shoulders, faces her, intense: "That’s what I’m trying to do." He sighs, running a hand through his hair, but the gesture seems empty - it’s as though he’s trying to convey weariness without the actual exhaustion accompanying. "Do you think General Slick can give me advice on how to achieve this?" He directs the query at Rory, the most familiar player with Slick. "It’s quite a feat for someone not a Witch… Although I suppose a Prince would be the next best thing." 

"General Slick is skilled in combat," Rory denies, "not game constructs, despite being one." 

"I just want to separate myself from this game," Ali comments into the empty air, floating up and above them once again, "but I’m pretty sure that’s _your_ job, Dirk." 

Dirk whips around, glaring up at her. "Do you," he growls, " _want_ me to separate you from this game? Because I can." Keeping his eyes fixed on her, he floats upward to meet her. "I can separate your _head_ from its _connection_ to your _body_ , if you so _wish_. Is _that_ what you’re _asking_ _for_?" 

The sheen of sweat is visible on both of the players’ brows as Ali squeaks out a small "No…" She’s very, very quiet. "Not _really_." 

"Then let me try to keep us all alive, please." 

"Okay." 

Dirk sighs. "Perhaps Devon has some ideas." 

"He codes, right?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon's ears perk up. _Moi?_ Light players aren’t exactly _made_ for _recon_ , but Devon is pretty sure he’s, ah, _lucky_ enough to land hear what he needs to, which is why he's been relying on his natural instinct for ambience to tell him when to start paying attention to whatever the hell is happening outside of the four Dersite towers. 

His natural instinct for ambience is pretty damn certain it's time to start paying attention. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A new voice enters the fray. "What’s going on? Sorry I missed the meeting!" 

Dirk floats back down next to Rory, sighing. "I’m trying to keep all hell from breaking loose. In other words, what’s new?" 

Rory’s left eye twitches. "Fuck off, Devon." 

"Excuse me?" Devon recoils, taking in the scene with an offended eye. " _No_."

"Devon," Dirk agrees, "please _do_ fuck off. There’s no reason to put any of us in a _worse_ mood." He nods upward, to the nearest tower. "Go wait in my bedroom with Tom and Navo." 

"I literally _only_ came here to get information," Devon protests. "You are all hor _ri_ fic people." 

"Well," Dirk says, his patience tried, "I’ll _give_ you the information _later_." For a good 20 seconds no one says anything, the silence broken only by the ambiance of the Dersites mulling around in the background and a continuous,  quiet groaning which, upon further investigation, seems to be coming from Dirk. 

"Dirk," Devon says finally, his jaw clenched, "you’re the worst of them all." He pauses. "Aren’t you?" Beat. "Whatever." 

"I’ll tell you later," Dirk insists. "I don’t need people like _you_ fucking up my negotiations." 

Devon takes to the sky, flying in exactly the _opposite_ direction of the Prince's tower. (He's preparing to sulk in his room some more.)

"Farewell, asshole," Rory calls. 

"Devon, wait!" says Ali. 

"Go with him if you want to talk to him, Ali," comes Dirk’s tired counsel, but by this time Devon is too far away to catch again in any manner of efficiency… 

Ali begins to float away from Rory and Dirk (by about a foot, ultimately). If all goes well, this will be far enough to separate her from the conversation as a participant, but close enough for her to eavesdrop. All, however, immediately does not go well, as Dirk steps closer to Rory so that he can speak quietly enough for _Rory_ to hear and _not_ Ali. 

"I really am trying to keep us all alive," he murmurs. "I could barely take it the first time. We _can’t_ allow something like that to happen again, we _need_ to trust each other. I’m the Prince of Blood. I destroy relationships, but when I get really powerful is when I _unite_ people and destroy _with_ the strengthof that unity. We can’t let people tear us apart, and I’m afraid that’s what Slick is going to try." 

"To be honest, I don’t really trust Slick either," Rory whispers, "but he’s a powerful ally to have. At least under my rule he can’t kill you outright without blowing whatever cover he might have." 

Dirk presses his hands onto Rory’s shoulders, not quite gripping them in case Rory moves away. He allows the fear to shine through his eyes, his eyebrows to knit, his teeth to grind, and his mouth to part. " _Please_ tell me that if he tries to convince you we’ve moved against you, you won’t believe him. I mean, what reason could we even possibly _have_ for that?"

"I can’t promise anything. But I will try to trust you." 

Dirk grips Rory in a sudden, tight, awkward hug. "I don’t like you. But I _don’t_ want anyone else to die." His breath hot against Rory’s ear, his tone darkens. "I haven’t even killed _Devon_ , and _that’s_ taken some self-control." 

"I’m no murderer," agrees Rory. " _I_ haven’t taken a single life." 

" _Don’t_ let it happen. Despite how easy some people may make it seem, it’s not fun… and it’s almost never worth it." 

"I won’t." 

Dirk lets him go, staring at Rory, then takes off for his tower, calling behind himself: "Do what’s right!" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali floats over to Rory. "What was that about?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

You, Dirk Quintana, purse your lips. Not the _most_ successfully that could’ve gone, but it’s the most you could've hoped for, really, you suppose. And y'know, maybe this way, he’ll actually take your advice. 

  
  


**Dirk Quintana** is now **metaphorically offline** **for the purposes of the narrative**!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"What was that about?" Rory repeats. "Oh, you know. Just a little…" Rory frowns down at his shirt, contemplating, then matches eyes with Ali with a shit-eating grin. "Heart-to-heart." 

"Man," Ali whistles, "I _hope_ for the _life_ of me that these puns aren’t going to be a recurring gag." 

"But Ali," Rory insists, "these puns are the _light_ of my _life_. I’d be _void_ wihtout them." 

"We don’t have _time_ for these puns to infect my _blood_. Just give me some _space_ , man." 

"Come on, Ali, these puns are like a _breath_ of fresh _air_." 

"As an Heir, I find that pun offensive." 

"Sorry."

Ali narrows her eyes. 

"I didn’t mean for my puns to be a _bard_ -en." 

"You were just going off on me about war or some shit, then Dirk shows up and you’re all about puns? What gives?" 

Rory mutters an unimportant excuse; Ali rolls her eyes and flies off. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [9:13PM]

  
  


VP: What’s new pussycat woaaaaaaaaaawoaaaawoooh

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In Dirk’s bedroom, Navo is looking about. _Suspicious_. It's not clear what exactly is the object of her suspicion, nor what she suspects it of, but it is suspicious, nonetheless. "I gotta go check something out first, before we have our talk." She takes a running jump out the window, presumably to check something out. 

Her left hand is shaking. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom gets a notification on his IW (Invisible Wingtop). 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [9:14PM]

  
  


SS: what’s uuuuuuup

VP: Hey SS!

SS: hey ali what are you up to? 

VP: I don’t really know. I was just messing around with the Alchemiter. 

VP: What’s your strife specibus? I’ll make you a new thingy!

SS: kinda machinegunkind or w/e but i still have a blank specibus card...so surprise me! id kinda prefer a machine gun though

VP: I don’t think I own a machine gun... 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali scurries downstairs to her garage in search of some tools (and/or weapons).

  
  


SS: i think i have the code on my phone, i usually record all my codes

SS: ...nope

SS: must not have wrote it down with all the shit that happened at the time

  
  


Ali's eyes graze the left wall, falling on an old blade hung upon it. An axe. _Too primitive…_

And on the right wall, a chainsaw. _Too_ weird _._ Then, suddenly, something even shinier catches her eye. Father’s old fencing sword! It hasn’t been used in decades, though she still greases it every weekend... Well, she did before this. 

...she's sure it'll be fine. 

Ali hurries back to her computer. 

  
  


VP: What about swords? You like swords? 

SS: im down w/ swords

VP: Cool!

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **online and messing with the weather again**!  [9:17PM]

  
  


SS: navo...you’re messing with the weather?

CC: does anyone know any jazz music for alto sax?

VP: It Don’t Mean a Thing was always one of my favorites back in school! 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom is kinda confused about why Navo is messing around on what he presumes to be her land when they’re all supposed to be about to fight the Black Queen. 

  
  


CC: i came back to lopar to get something and then

CC: HOLY SHIT MY HOUSE IS ABOUT TO BE ENGULFED IN WATER!

  


What a conveniently-placed explanation. 

  


SS: oh shit

CC: so now I’m playing bond

CC: but I’m getting tired of the bond I need something else

SS: ahh okay that makes more sense lol

CC: god damn these waves I just needed to get something

SS: anyway on my end

SS: i think i just put dirk to sleep???

VP: Really? How? 

SS: a lot of effort

  
  


It doesn’t take more than a moment for Tom to realize he should probably be keeping his magical practices to himself. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Your name is Dirk Quintana and the whispers of the Dark Gods are disturbing your Voidy sleep, weaving and twirling nightmares of your most baleful fears. 

  
  


SS: it was a pain in the ass to alchemize

VP: What’d you alchemize? Is Dirk okay???

SS: yeah hes breathing dont sweat it

VP: Oh thank god. 

  
  


But these nightmares...

They're... 

_illuminating_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom snaps his fingers. 

You wake up. 

  
  


SS: all good

SS: he woke up

  
  


"Dirk?" His voice is surprisingly gentle. "You okay?" 

"Yeah," the boy you were says, though kind of staring into the distance, his eyes a little far-off, a little haunted. There’s a long pause. "Yeah, I’m good." He hops to his feet (and stumbles). 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online!** [9:21PM]

  
  


"...do you remember anything?" 

  
  


VP: Dirk! How was your nap

  
  


Dirk pauses, finger on his phone screen. "What do you mean?"

"Like… what’s the last thing you remember before falling asleep?" 

  
  


ER: still in your bedroom ali??? 

VP: Yeah, Why?

ER: no reason.

VP: Then... why ask?

  
  


"Um…" His eyebrows furrow. "It was me and Rory talking. He agreed to a kind of truce, I guess. I suppose I had to come back here at _some_ point, though, or else I wouldn’t be here. Did you do something with your Void stuff?" With that last sentence, Dirk looks… apprehensive, to say the least. 

Tommaso stares into Dirk’s eyes, a smile slowly growing on his face. 

"You look," says Dirk quietly, "like you’re going to _kill_ me." 

"YES!" Tom cheers. 

"Um." 

"NO I CAN DO MAGIC STUFF!" He pauses. "Now, if I can only remember _how_ to,  next time..." 

Dirk grins. "Great!" 

  
  


ER: just wanted to make sure i knew where everyone was. is navo with you???

VP: No sorry

SS: no dirk navo just left

ER: when did that happen???

ER: oh. right.

SS: right before you fell asleep :/

  
  


"Do you want to tell the others this?" Dirk probes. 

"Fuck no. I’m afraid I’ll lose their trust!" Tom’s movements slow for a moment. "You trust me not to do this again to you, right?" 

"I…" For Dirk, it seems as though this moment is framed, encased in unbreakable glass forever, protecting it even from the spans of time and its flow. Nothing is moving. "No, Tom." He laughs. "How could someone distrust _you_? We should tell them. Secrets are the best way to unify a team." 

Except that Tom kind of wants to ~~ab~~ use this. "But I already lied to them, Dirk. If they find out it’s god-tier shit…" 

_What do I know?_ Dirk peers at Tom, only a few inches shorter than he. _I know that Tom is cute as hell._ Unnoticed, his hand squeezes in a fist as Dirk's brain fights the cognitive dissonance. _He's probably the only person who really trusts me at this point – besides Navo, to some degree? I shouldn't just throw that away..._

And, of course, he _certainly_ doesn't have an inkling that Tom may want to ~~_ab_~~ _use_ his powers. "Lied to them about what?" 

"I told them I put you to sleep, but with alchemy instead of powers." 

"You’re a Mage of Void, remember? If we destroy all the secrets, you can’t be hurt by them." Dirk’s logic is questionable, to say the least. 

"But without secrets, my powers are useless. Please, Dirk, I felt useless for way too long!" 

Dirk’s eyes widen at the tone of Tom’s voice. This kind of insecurity about godhood _wasn’t_ expected. "F – Fine. We’ll keep it a secret, for now." 

"Thank you thank you _thank_ you!" Tom’s relief is so palpable… "So, here’s what you missed…"

  


♞

  
  


Dirk is pacing furiously. "We need to find a different place for meetings ASAP. We can’t have Slick knowing where we are." _Stupid!_ he screams. _Stupid, stupid, you idiot!_

  
  


VP: So... What’s going on on your end? 

ER: ali, feeling up for a meeting???

ER: with slick online, i dont have much faith in pesterchum. 

VP: Sure!

SS: we’re going to fight the black queen

ER: tom, what the fuck. 

SS: dirk i was about to explain what you forgot

ER: explain it when ali gets here. 

ER: i dont want more than is necessary on pesterchum. 

VP: Where are you guys at? Tom’s house? 

ER: ill pm you. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging** **vividParadox [VP]**!  [9:26PM]

ER \---> VP: were on derse, in my bedroom. 

VP \---> ER: Alrighty!

ER \---> VP: slick might be watching derse, now that he knows well be attacking the queen. 

ER \---> VP: take whatever loops necessary to throw him off your track. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Offline!** [9:28PM]

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is no longer **private messaging** **vividParadox [VP]**!  [9:28PM]

  
  


  


  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali just flies straight to Derse because, honestly, she's the kind of person to forget the whole Slick ordeal the moment the front door clicks closed behind her. By the time she walks in, Dirk and Tom are already discussing. 

"Hello!" 

"Ali, good," Dirk says approvingly. "Tom, you’re a Void player. What’s a good, Void-y place he’s unlikely to find us?" 

"Oh, fuck, I wasn't thinking about Slick… uh…" 

"It’s okay. We don’t give up, we just adapt." He now appears to be flicking the corner of a bookshelf repeatedly. His cuticle is bleeding. 

"The _Furthest Ring_ ," suggests Tom. "Like… just floating in the void." 

"Someone care to fill me in?" Ali wonders. 

"Ali," Dirk says, turning to her, "we should avoid Spades Slick at all costs. He’s an Archagent and he’s already said he intends to kill all of us - or, more accurately, get us killed." 

"Oh, god," Ali whispers. _I knew that, but it seems... so much more..._ fatal. _Coming from Dirk._

"I suggest," Dirk continues, "that after this mission, we get to the F – the _Furthest_ _Ring_ as quickly as possible. Tom, how long did Navo say she’d be gone?"

"I don’t know," Tom confesses, "she just up and left for her land. Probably said ‘in a minute’ or something, I honestly don’t remember…" 

"I don’t feel safe here, now that Slick knows what we’re doing," Dirk says, still pacing at an abnormal pace. "We can’t afford to wait. We’ve got to go now, then fly like hell for the R – _Furthest_ _Ring._ We can hang tight there. Ali, I’m afraid you’ll probably be bullet fodder. Are you okay with that?" 

"What the fuck is the ‘Furthest Ring’?" Ali says. 

"As far from Skaia as you can _get_ without leaving the session," Tom clarifies. "It’s  part of the atmosphere, kind of, and _really big_ , so... Well, I doubt _anyone_ would find us if we just picked a random spot to stay put in." 

"But what’s bullet fodder?" 

"We’ll be using you to absorb hits if anything goes wrong," Dirk explains. "You’re an Heir and _faith itself_ protects you." 

"But are you saying," Ali says uncertainly, "I’m a decoy? Or whatever?" 

"No. Just a human shield." 

"Oh, great. Fun." 

  
  


ER: well wait for you here, navo. we wont go until you show up. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** began pestering **carbonatedCorpse [CC]**.  [9:30PM]

  
  


ER \---> CC: wait for us on prospit. dont come to derse. 

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse’s phone** was engulfed in waves! [9:30PM]

  
  


SS: navo ffs

  
  


"Are you sure we have to wait for her?" Tommaso wonders aloud, his eyes flickering alternately between Dirk and Ali. "She might stall us long enough to get us all killed…" 

"Of course not, Tom. I was lying. To throw Slick off our track. The fact it was so obvious to you may be a bad sign, but, honestly, whatever. Now, Tom, what did I tell you the plan was before I fell asleep?" Dirk’s eyes flick to Ali. "I may not trust alt versions of me, but I do trust _me_." 

"You and Navo disract while I sneak up behind her and kill the bitch." 

"Well, me and Ali, now," Dirk corrects. "Probably better, though, an Heir is defensive. You’re a valuable player, Ali." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Someone should really make sure Navo isn’t drowning. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali is, to be honest, taken utterly by surprise. "I’m needed in this plan? That’s... _awesome!_ " 

"Again," Dirk repeats, "bullet fodder. I’ll kill guards, you’ll keep _me_ from being killed. Just… turn into pure Hope and make yourself into a shield, or something." 

"How the fuck do I do that?" 

"No idea! But being about to die really gets the blood flowing, doesn’t it?" Dirk grins. "Relax," he advises her. "Everything will go fine. _Literally_ all you need to do is believe in yourself." 

"I don’t think… I don’t think I really believe in myself. I really think I’m gonna die, Dirk." 

"Come on, Ali. I have enough trust in you for both of us." His expression darkens. "And we really _do_ need to leave as soon as possible." 

  
  


ER: navo, dont worry if were not here when you get here. we developed some defenses against slick - theres a code you can sing thatll let you in. im pming it to you now. 

  
  


ER \---> CC: again, do not come to derse. wait on prospit. 

ER \---> CC: oh, what the fuck is this?

  
  


"Carbonated corpse’s phone got engulfed by water," Dirk reads. 

"What?!" Tom says, the epitome of shock. The screen behind his back, he closes the chat client. _God damn it._

Dirk sighs. "Ali, go check that out, will you? Take her back to Prospit. Me and Tom can probably handle this." Dirk and Tom can’t handle this. 

"Alright," Ali agrees. "I’ll go check it out." 

  


♞ 

  


The sea is cold, colder than Ali remembers it ever being. Salt drags down her cheeks, gathers in her mouth, and 0 _Have those waves gotten bigger?_

No, it's her imagination. 

It's got to be. 

Right? 

" _Navo!_ " 

And nevertheless, she can't help but feel that the idea she might be heard over the dwarfing waves is truly ridiculous... 

  


Meanwhile: 

"Tom," Dirk says, staring down into the black-haired boy'sdark, reflective eyes. "You ready?" It’s kind of intense, actually. 

Tom smiles. "As ready as I’ll ever be. I’ll turn invisible just in case…" He grabs Dirk's hand and vanishes. "This way you'll know where I am." 

"Can you do it to me, too?" Dirk suggests. "I, um… I don’t want Slick to see us leaving, if he’s nearby." 

"I can try, but I've only successfully done it with small objects before." Dirk’s arm disappears. "Wow. That is... That is not helping, I suspect." 

"Good enough. If he _is_ nearby, he’ll think I only have one arm now." _At least, I hope_ so. With that, Dirk’s feet lift from the floor. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Navo, where are you?" Despite her obvious fears, Ali flies out, above the waves, cold sea spray soaking her in moments - is it just her, or are those icy pellets of rain _frozen_? It’s difficult to tell: the storm is darkening everything around her.  She’s never been the best swimmer, especially not in these conditions, so she doesn't venture _into_ the water – not that it makes any difference, really, floating above the surface keeps her just as soaked.  "Navo! Where the fuck are you?"

Is that… a saxophone? 

That glint beneath the water, is that a _saxophone?_

" _?????????_ " 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom and Dirk glide over the amethyst courtyard beneath the towers, cathedral windows creating fractals of lilac light all around them that bounce dazzlingly off of Dirk's pale skin – and not at all off of Tommaso. (Dirk, pulling to the right to avoid the possibility of Rory looking up and seeing them; Tommaso, ceding to Dirk, for now.) As soon as they’re sure to be out of Rory's range of sight, Dirk accelerates to full speed ahead, and the nearest wall of the Dersite castle approaches. While Dirk pulls Tom along, he tries to turn more of Dirk invisible. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali takes a breath – takes a few breaths, because, tbh, suddenly she _really_ doesn't want to do this – pulls her god-tier costume tight around her – dives into the thundering, cerulean waves. 

She surfaces about as wet as she went in, and plus one saxophone. _Aw, it’s rusti_ _ng... Navo really ought to take better care of this._ A shame – other than that, it looks to be a perfectly good instrument. 

Oh, right. Crisis to be averted. Really, everything is rush, rush, rush nowadays. " _Navo!_ " Ali needs to ration herself on her screaming, or else her voice is going to give out.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Better idea," Dirk murmurs to Tom as they land on the roof - they’re on top of the tallest vaulting ceiling of the entire cathedral. "Turn part of the roof invisible. I’m going to see if I can cut off the Queen’s head remotely." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

_No_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"I mean," he says, humorlessly, "that’s how physics works, right?" 

Tom reappears beside him. "Well, the roof will still be there…" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

_That’s not_ … 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Maybe if I just visualize it well, I can attack her from afar." 

Tom imagines a giant hole in the ceiling, and a circle of roof suddenly appears to be missing. There’s no throne or queen or even guards. But there _are_ huge fucking heaps of gold coins. 

"Holy shit," Dirk mutters. "I want some." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali grabs Navo, avoiding the worst of the waves, and carries her ashore. _Don’t let it be too late…_ " Navo! Are you okay, Navo?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom’s clothes are flowing in the wind. Y'know, for the sake of magic. "Then why don’t you hop in?" 

Dirk nods, studying the roof. He flexes his palm, but nothing appears to happen. Then he punches, and his hand smashes through the purple brick like it’s condensed sawdust. "Oh fuck yes." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Navo, for Pete’s sake, you’re a _god_!  Wake _up_!" Ali slaps her. She (gently) knocks her head against the ground. 

Nothing. 

"We resurrect if we die, right?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk slips in, wriggling through the hole and into the chamber. The ceiling is high above the floor, but thanks to his godhood, fall damage is no longer an issue. Tom reappears the remaining pieces of the roof (and the illusion of the rest) and disappears himself. Dirk begins shoveling gold coins into his Sylladex. "Fuck yes, fuck yes, fuck yes."

"Hey, look at this insignia," Dirk mutters, trying to bite into one of the coins (and succeeding). " _Derse: It’s better than Prospit_." 

That’s when the door slams open to reveal a pair of burly Dersite guards. Luckily, Tom is still on the roof. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali equips her bow and arrows. High into the sky she flies, far above the waves of LOPAR, taking deadly aim… "I’ll give you three seconds, in case you’re just fucking with me!" She pauses, not entirely sure Navo can even hear her over the din of the ongoing storm. "One!" 

Ali closes one eye for a practice shot. 

(She’s not fucking with her. ) 

Whoops. 

(God damn it.)

Right in the heart.

(Ali, for fuck's sake.) 

Let’s hope that wasn’t Just.

…

Nothing happens. 

"Oh, fuck." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In a wildly large motion, Dirk swings his arm out and the head of one guard finds itself no longer attached to its formerly-resident body. The other runs for the fucking hills. 

"Oh, dear." Dirk pauses. "Tom, get down here." Dirk stamps his foot _down_ , and his magical bond-weakening powers collapse this ceiling, too. In the background, Tom falls gracefully down into the hall. In the foreground, dramatic music that only Dirk can hear blares, and he floats down through the hole, all trace of sneakiness gone. A wide, long, and royally tallcorridor appears to him. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Is she… 

Is she really dead? 

Like, fucking _dead_? 

Shit.

Shitting hell fuck. 

Shit. 

Shit shit shit. 

Shit. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The Dersite Queen stands beside her throne. She wears the snout of a dog, and her ankles seem to be similarly angled. Her eyes appear to not only be beady, but made of literal beads. On her head is a hat; on her lip is a mustache. A lavish fur coat hangs heavy on her shoulders, a long cigarette holder on her lips, rolling luxuriously between her fingers. 

There's nothing luxurious about the Queen. 

Tom follows behind Dirk. "Hey, you got the money?" 

"Some, Tom. But if you don’t mind," Dirk murmurs out of the corner of his mouth, "I’m trying to be dramatic." 

All due respect to him, Tom, for his part, shuts up and continues to be invisible to the naked eye. Also, pretty much every other eye, which would explain why Dirk doesn’t notice Tom walking across the hall, very sneaky-like. There is a half-second's reprieve, and then a guard fires an arrow at Dirk, but Dirk decapitates him, narrowly avoiding a knife thrown by the Queen. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali flies down to Navo’s, uh, corpse. "Oh my god. Navo, please. Navo, please, I swear." 

The hell is that shit coming from Navo? Is it… could it be… magical lightly bullshit? 

"What the – what the _fuck_?" The light creeps up on Ali, slowly moving up her body. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In a good three seconds flat all of the Dersite guards are dead, but Dirk easily has his hands full with those flooding the throne hall now, and the Queen is certainly complicating things. 

Tom tiptoes back and forth across the hall as he moves forward. Y’know, for strategic, stealthy purposes. 

Dirk cuts out a piece of the roof, which falls almost on top of the Queen, but she does a sick shoulder roll and manages to escape the falling rock as it smashes another five guards. Dirk flits backwards, waves his hand, but the Dersite Queen grabs a nearby (dead) guard’s shield and brandishes it before herself; instead of her person being cut in half, the shield is. 

Tom pulls out his machine gun and aims for the Black Queen. At nigh-point-blank, there’s no way he can miss.

The Black Queen turns on her heel and thrusts a sword, and just like that, Tom is bleeding out on the floor. " _Oh fuck what the hell_." 

Dirk freezes, his hand still out, stuck in a time that has not yet caught up with the Queen’s actions, still empowered, and then he begins to float downward. "Tom…" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The light wraps around her. 

"Navo," Ali whispers, "what are you _doing?_ " 

The arrow in Navo’s throat disappears, the wound mending. 

"Navo… What…" The light continues wrapping around Ali, tightening, almost suffocating her. Light… tangible? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"No..." 

The hilt of a knife, engraved with the letters _BQ_ , is in Dirk’s stomach. He looks down at it. Then he falls to the ground, down, down, down… The throne room is so tall that it takes him a good three seconds to hit the ground with a wet thump, and a crunch that humans were not meant to make. 

"Tom," Dirk gasps. 

"Dirk… I’m sorry." 

  
  


**HEROIC.**

  


The **Mage** of **Void** is now **Dead**!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali stumbles, falling to her hands and knees, and Navo groans. Ali smiles. "Well, fuck…" With a rather final sound that is _unmistakably_ fingers snapping, Ali collapses.

  
  


And an impossible distance away, Navo wakes up to the calmest sea. 

  
  


The **Thief** of **Life** is now **Alive**!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In the corner of his fading vision, Dirk can see the Black Queen approaching him, and he raises his hand weakly – but then he catches a glimmer of silver in the air, and suddenly his sight flickers – his hand is back at his side – 

And who the _hell_ is that in the windowsill? 

  
  


**HEROIC.**

  


The **Prince** of **Blood** is now **Dead**!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo stands. 

She looks at Ali.

"Ali? Hey!" 

Around Ali, rainbows begin to form, bouncing off of each other, reflecting and refracting in ways that just blatantly obviously should _not_ be possible. Why, they won’t stand for this complete disrespect for the laws of physics. After a couple moments of not standing for this disrespect of physics, accomplishing nothing, the rainbows continue refracting, though in a decidedly weary sort of way. 

Ali slowly rises into the air, the rainbow streams becoming ever more vivid. 

"Ali, what’s going on?"

These kids just can't catch a br8.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The Black Queen turns to defend herself; a woman in a black skirt smashes her foot into the Queen’s hand, kicking a silver coin from it. She lands with a roll, a Dersite arrow grazing her forehead; a few stray strands of hair fall, and blood mars her rosewood complexion. She leaps up out of the roll, grabbing the coin, and flips it. 

  
  


**NOT HEROIC**???

  
  


Everyone’s sight within 100 yards flickers, and suddenly the Queen is back by her throne; the window through which the woman entered is no longer shattered; Tom is invisible, but nearby the throne; Dirk floats overhead.

" _Tia_?" is all that Dirk can say, shocked, before an arrow hits him in the arm. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Suddenly, Ali falls to the ground, and the colors disappear. "Navo…" She feels rather weak. 

"Ali, what the _hell_ just happened?"

"Well, _I_ don’t know!" 

"Where’s Dirk?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk growls and cuts another guard in half. 

"Kid!" the woman yells. "Wherever you are, don’t attack her, she’ll smell you!" 

Tom halts, his gun halfway poised, then covers his mouth and runs in the opposite direction. " _What?_ " Halving the distance between Dirk and the Queen, he uncovers himself. 

"I thought you were dead!" Dirk cuts down another row of guards; his _tia_ shoots a couple others. The Black Queen grimaces, turns on her heel, and spritns down a side hallway. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Derse? That’s where I last left him!" 

"O – Okay? Navo," Ali pleads as the other tries to whisk off, " _wait_." 

"What?" 

"I need to figure out what just happened." 

"Figure it out on the _way there_." _I shouldn't have come back_. "They ought to be helped." _That was... That was selfish._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Let’s go," the woman says. "She’s not worth it." 

"Who the hell are you?" Tommaso demands. 

Dirk, for one, follows the order. With the Queen gone, the other Dersite guards are dead in about ten seconds. Standing there, panting, he considers Tom. "She’s my aunt." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali and Navo land on one of the very few Dersite cathedrals with a top flat enough and long enough to facilitate the aerocraft. 

"I felt… Did I die?" 

"Did you?" Navo says absently. "Did I? Who knows?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

His aunt throws the coin into the air, and Dirk catches it instinctively. She winks, backflips, and sprints out of the cathedral, chased by Dirk’s call of "What the FUCK, tia?" 

"...o _kay_." 

Dirk is pretty much on the same page as Tommaso here. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory downs many, many allergy pills.

Kings need their beauty sleep. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"So, did we just fail our mission? And… more importantly, did we just _die?!_ " 

"I don’t know," says Dirk. He looks worried. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"How am I _alive?!_ " 

"Don’t ask me, I’m a shitty Life player." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The King is awoken. 

(He had a nice dream. One about dogs.) 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk studies the coin in his hand. "Jujus," he says, sounding as though reciting a speech he knows by heart. "Jujus are a variety of magical objects with a complex system of rules governing their use. Each juju exists as a single entity across all realities and cannot be copied or permanently destroyed. Should there ever appear to be two copies of one juju, one of the ‘copies’ is either an illusion or an error that will eventually be erased from existence, or more commonly, is destined to end up becoming the other version at some later time. The main function of a juju originates in its ability to alter the alpha timeline without consequence." He pauses. "Guide knowledge can come in really handy sometimes." 

"Haha. I have no idea what you just said and I don’t really care to find out right now. Let’s ditch before they try killing us again!"

"Good idea. I trust Sara to tell us when to run." 

  
  


**derseSovereign [DS]** is now **Online!** [9:50PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Well, good thing for everyone else. I’m a bit more confident knowing I can’t really _die_." 

"I guess?" Navo twitches, then seems to think better of whatever she was going to say next and hops out of the plane, her face a blank mask. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging derseSovereign [DS]!** [9:50PM]

  
  


ER \---> DS: if you want to work with the rest of the team, get to prospit, please. 

DS \---> ER: What’s wrong with Derse

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk floats up into the Dersite sky, scanning the perimeter. No guards seem to be shooting arrows. 

  
  


SS: woah derse sovereign when did you change your name to that and why

DS: Good morning Tommaso. 

SS: good morning

ER: morning, rory. 

DS: Is it morning? I just woke up. 

ER: its 10 at night.

SS: times weird so fuck it

  
  


ER \---> DS: were making our operations a little more remote.

  
  


DS: My name is Derse Sovereign because I, Rory, am the King of Derse. It’s fitting. 

ER: active king while the OTHER black king is fighting on skaia???

DS: ...

DS: I

DS: I thought Slick disposed of the Black King? 

ER: did he??? i wasnt aware. my apologies.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo alights on Derse. 

  
  


ER: if so, hes made our job easier. 

ER: wait, if he killed the king, then were... 

ER: our job is completed. 

DS: We’re still attacking Prospit, dear.

ER: thats fine. theyre meant to die anyway. 

SS: wait wtf

DS: I have the scepter. 

SS: so YOU’RE our final boss fight? 

DS: Yes. I’m trying to remain civil about this.

  
  


Above her, Ali pauses, considers, and flies off toward a golden bedroom. 

  
  


ER: rory, did you start the reckoning yet??? 

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **private messaging derseSovereign [DS]!** [10:06PM]

  
  


CC \---> DS: where are you? 

DS \---> CC: In Derse, dear. 

DS \---> CC: In the King’s Quarters. 

  
  


Navo changes direction. 

  
  


ER: earth has to be destroyed, theres no way around it or well end up in a doomed timeline. did you start the reckoning yet??? 

ER: use your scepter. 

DS: Not yet, we’re planning a little bit ahead. I’m giving you a headstart. 

ER: what do you mean a headstart??? 

ER: whos chasing us??? 

DS: So you can train before I kill all of you with my unlimited power. 

ER: RORY, NO!!

DS: Or you could just...

DS: Not fight me? 

SS: rory wtf

ER: we talked about this!! you agreed to a truce!!

  
  


A knock resounds within the King’s Quarters.

  
  


ER: why would we fight you??? 

DS: Live out your lives in this dead session. 

DS: It’s not a bad life. 

ER: oh. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [10:09PM]

  
  


VP: What the fuck is going on?!

SS: wait so we agreed to not winning

SS: okay i guess

ER: i... didnt say that yet.

VP: Is Rory the boss?! Are we not gonna fight him?! 

DS: It’s good here. There are consorts, imps, beautiful scenery... 

ER: rory, youre the leader of a nation. surely you understand democracy. im going to assemble the team so we can consider that. 

ER: is that acceptable???

  
  


Rory opens the door. Somehow, he looks more… shiny. 

  
  


SS: look all im saying is that if we have to, we can prob take him on. its like 5v1AndSomeDogs

DS: Millions of dogs. 

VP: Is he going to doom our session?!

ER: tom, ali, shush.

  
  


"Hello, Rory." Her face. Is. Blank. 

"Hello, my dear." 

  
  


ER: rory, is it alright if the team reconvenes to talk about this??? 

  
  


"I felt the impulse to show up here." Her voice. Is. Emotionless. 

  
  


DS: I’m busy right now, one second.

  
  


ER \---> VP: ill meet you on prospit.

VP \---> ER: Alrighty. 

  
  


ER \---> CC: ill meet you on prospit. 

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **not receiving your message**!  [10:14PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Oh for fuck’s sake. 

"Tom, we’re going to Prospit." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory’s heart. It goes doki doki. Does… Does this mean Navo likes him? Has senpai finally noticed Rory? 

"Oh?" 

"Oh," she agrees.

Senpai _has_ finally noticed Rory.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On Prospit, the Heir of Hope waits. 

Soon, she is rewarded. "Explain what the fuck is happening." 

"You saw that bullshit on Pesterchum, obviously. Do you know where Rory is?" 

"No." 

"Damn it," Dirk curses. "We had a truce. Now, it appears he’ll only be peaceful with us if we don’t take our destiny of beating the game." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"I heard you needed a Queen." Navo smirks mirthlessly. 

Rory blushu liek anime skoolgrill. "Oh, my. Is this a proposal, love?" 

"What else would it be?" 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"I…" Dirk sighs. "I can’t actively _try_ to fracture the team. We’ve got to go along with it." He pauses. "Thoughts?" 

"I don’t know," Ali says, shaking her head. "This is all so confusing." 

"I personally think we should take him on," Tom says. "We’re still supposed to win… aren’t we?" 

"Well… I guess." 

"What’s even the fucking point if we aren’t?" Tommaso pushes. "I have sources telling me that we _need_ to kill Rory."  Somewhere in the gamespace, certainly in the **FURTHEST RING** , whispers rumble.

"Listen, Tom," Dirk says, his voice adopting a distinctly different cadence. "Our lives’ meanings aren’t determined by this game. And what sources would those be anyway?" 

"Oh, y'know."

"Tom." 

"...the Dark Gods." 

"The WHAT?" Ali interrupts. 

"They got me this far, I can’t doubt them _now_." 

"Dark doesn't always mean evil, Ali." Dirk stands up. "You two, decide what you want. I’m going to Rory. I need him to believe I’m on his side, because I _am_. I’m going to try to kill Slick while I’m with him, because he can’t be allowed to survive. But I have more faith in myself than  those Gods – no offense to them, they're powerful as hell." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"So, Rory, _do_ you need a Queen?" _Ally yourself with the winning team._

"Yes, I do." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk whips around to face Tom again, and gives him a quick kiss. "Tom," he says. "Quit it with those Dark Gods, will you? Make your _own_ fate." 

"...okay…" 

As he floats out the window, Ali’s voice follows. "Tom, what the fuck are Dark Gods?" 

"The Dark Gods who whisper you secrets on Derse." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Good." Navo smiles and kisses Rory on the cheek. _+1 point to Navo._ (He’s smiling like an idiot. He’s really flustered.) 

So Navo is Queen. Now what? 

  
  


ER: rory, where are you??? id like to join you. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Tom, I… Those are fucked up. Don’t listen to those." 

"They’re the reason why we’re still alive. They got me in the game when no one was there! So sorry if I think they can be helpful." 

  
  


ER: i understand that im subordinate to you - you created a kingdom after all, didnt you??? 

ER: i can be your knight. 

  
  


"Tom. Please." There’s something in her eyes, a mixture of fright and sadness. "It sounds horrible." 

"It _sounds_ horrible." Tom looks out the window. "You were right, your moon fucking _sucks_. It’s way too bright!" 

"I hated this ugly mustard color when we first got here. It’s starting to grow on me, though." 

"Just like your favorite brand of mold." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In the depths of the largest Dersite cathedral, Rory faints out of fluster. 

Oh, wow.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

He just stares and stares out that window. "Do you think that Dirk would mind if I left for Derse?" 

"Yes. Without a doubt." 

"Oh. Well, then, if he asks…" Tom looks Ali in the eyes, his gaze empty and enchanting, as though you could fall into it and never come out. " _I was never here._ " With that, he is away. 

  
  


♞

  
  


The Heir of Hope sits in her bedroom. 

_It’s a waiting game now. Dirk, always with his plans, plans, always impatient, never willing to wait._ She sighs, troubled. _I do wish that someone else,_ anyone _else_ _had been with Dirk and_ _me_ _. That would have made it a little more bearable. That would have made it seem a little less like the world was against us._

_It could've been Tommaso._

_Where has he been, anyway?_

  


♞

  
  


For a couple hours, the Prince debates this strategy, but it's too late now, really. 

For a couple hours, the Heir struggles with what is right and what is necessary. 

For a couple hours, the Mage makes his rounds and gathers his thoughts. 

Somewhere, somewhen, a clock strikes 12.

  
  


_One and one and one and four_

_Soon the players end our war_

_The Heir, awake; our Hope lives still_

_The Prince, our villain; Blood shall spill_

  
  


\- Prospitian scripture

1 27


	15. Punch-Drunk

#  Friday, November 13, 2015

Tommaso Mambelli sweeps over Rory's cathedral, lilac stone accentuating the deeper hues, his own body unreflective and obscured. A little eavesdropping never hurt anyone... 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory Diamond awakens to the wet texture of a dog-butler licking his face. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk Quintana sits heavy on the stairs outside of what is, ultimately, the most intricate cathedral in Derse (Where is the Black Queen?), waiting, per the instructions of the first of Rory's imp that he saw. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory looks around questioningly. The question mark above his head is almost tangible. _Where is Navo?_

... no matter. She must have left in order to get ready for the marriage. Or, y'know, to do other, Black Queenly, things. 

The boy stands, brushing non-existent dust from his Bardly attire (the floor of his bedroom is very clean), and his butler barks a message to him. _Ah. Someone wishes to see me, then._

The King allows himself to be led down to the entrance of the cathedral, where his guest awaits conference. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk stands, quickly, too quickly, he _scrambles_ to get up, and by the time he sees Rory before him he knows he’s made a mistake, because now he’s not just nervous, he’s _visibly_ nervous. “Your…” Dirk trails off, uncertain ( _trying_ to make it seem collected), waiting for Rory to finish the title. 

“You can just call me ‘Rory’, if you wish,” Rory informs him imperiously. “However, a ‘your majesty’ or the like will be appreciated if you _do_ wish to serve me.” 

Dirk’s heart beats a little faster. On impulse, he kneels. “Your majesty.” _This isn’t how this is supposed to go. Shut up, Dirk. You weren’t supposed to be this nervous, Dirk, you weren’t supposed to look this nervous, you’re supposed to look like you have power! ...even if you_ are _trying to portray submission._ After all, he needs to have the confidence necessitated to murder Spades Slick – and get away with it. _Even Devon I only managed to kill in self-defense_. 

_Shit, I wish I had a_ sword. For now, though, his submachine, held vertical before him in a dedication of his power, is good enough.

On the other side of things, Rory decides that if Dirk really wants to be his knight, then he should probably knight him. _Trouble is, I’ve only really_ seen _how knighting works in movies... Eh, historical accuracy doesn’t_ really _matter…_

He removes a sharpened bone from his sylladex and presses it to each of Dirk’s shoulders in turn with the kind of grandeur that can only be replicated through countless hours of practice in the fantasy of the mind. “You may stand, my knight.” 

_Rory just boned me._

_Ew._

Dirk swallows. _I thought it would take more than that…_ Regardless, though, he’s squarely in enemy territory now. _I mean, really, what are you going to do_ now? _You're avowed, dude._

He’ll have to be careful.

Dirk stands, and he’s still got a few inches on Rory – by which he means half a foot or more – which must be a laughable sight. “Prince, actually,” he murmurs – but he keeps his snark quiet, to himself. To Rory, he nods toward the doors of the grandest cathedral on Derse. “My lord.” 

Rory scratches the back of his neck. 

Dirk shifts uncomfortably. 

Rory just kinda looks at him. Then he looks away. 

“So, um... is that it, then?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Time to find out how the whole Rory / Dirk thing is going. This is _bound_ to be a clusterfuck. 

This time, she doesn’t take the gates. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ Well, I suppose. What else could I do? That...  _ is _ how you’re meant to knight someone, right?”  _ oh fuck did i fuck it up fuck fuck fuck _

Dirk shrugs, very much _not_ smirking. “I didn’t think you’d be so trusting.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

She knocks. “Anyone home?” 

“Do you need something?” Dirk calls from twenty yards to her right. Ali colors. 

Too many damn side doors. 

“ Oh, hey, Dirk!” As she jogs toward them, the nearest kingly statue yields to… Rory.  _ Oh, shit. _

Dirk sees her glance and moves an arm out in front of Rory before he can stop himself. He doesn’t withdraw it. 

_Too many deaths already._ The words feel ancient on his tongue, like he said them years ago instead of hours. 

Rory raises an eyebrow. “Well, I think that’s proof enough.” 

“You okay, Dirk?” Ali says, a note of accusation in her voice, her stance shifting to the defensive. “You’re acting… odd.” 

“ Sorry, Ali.” Dirk’s arm falls stiffly back to his side. “I just… I know tensions have been running a little bit strict."  That's not what the word is.  "I just assumed.” He frowns. “Why are you here?”  _ S _ _ tupid, stupid,  _ stupid!

“I was just wondering what was up! It’s not… I hope it’s… You two didn’t…”

“No!” Dirk says. _God, this is awkward._ He steps toward her, then hesitates, and his head turns a fraction of an inch, but he resists the urge to glance back at Rory, in case that might tip him off. Dirk moves next to Ali, whispering into her ear just loudly enough for her to hear. “I’m here to kill Slick. I don’t know what Rory will do if I do it and you’re staying here… If you meant to relocate here for the sake of the team, you should go soon.” 

“What? I couldn’t hear you.” 

“What are you telling her, knight?” 

“You know I don’t trust _Slick_ ,” Dirk growls in reply. “He _hasn’t_ proven that he means good for us. I was making sure she knew he was here, and saying that I don’t know the extent of his ability or his intent.” 

“Rory," Ali says, pushing Dirk aside and confronting the root at the self-fancied King of Derse, "what happened before I got here? Something’s definitely up.” 

“Well,” Rory says, stepping forward with all the collected grace of an ostrich with its head still stuck in the sand, “Navo and I are married. Dirk has submitted to my empire and has become my knight. You know, the usual.” _The tide is turning, Bradford._

Ali nods, doing her best to look unamused. “Nice one. What really happened?” 

  
  


**Dirk** is now **Uncomfortable!** [12:21AM]

  
  


“No, really,” Rory says, “that’s what happened.” 

“Nice… really funny. Seriously, though.” 

“Ali,” Dirk interjects, “Rory has the power. I have a morality to keep intact. Under him, I can keep all of us alive.” 

Ali's head cocks, her lips an incredulous oval. "You did _what?_ " 

"Ali – "

"Don't _Ali_ me, Diamond! I mean, what the FUCK?! Rory, what are we? Preteens?! You can’t just – marry and – _knight_ people! You don't _do_ that!” 

Dirk steps out in between them, annoyance growing. Above them, the Dark Gods whisper. “Ali, I’ve got this. Go home.” 

“No! I want to get to the bottom of this, Dirk!” 

"You don't _need_ the bottom of this – "

“I’m not a pre-teen,” Rory points out. “I’m 14, for Christ’s sake, this is legal in some countries.” 

“Not in OUR country!” Ali insists.

“What, _America?_ " Dirk mumbles, the word soured in mock. "It is, actually." His face is in his hands.

“Why am I always out of the loop?”

"This happened probably less than a minute ago, Ali." 

"Well – "

“I came to Rory because he’s in power.” His voice is suddenly, overcharacteristically harsh, the Dirk that would start fights in group chats for no real reason, not the Dirk that rewrites timelines and dramatically saves lives. The whispers of the Gods grow louder. “If I serve the people in power, I can protect all of you more _efficiently_. Do you understand what I’m saying to you? I’m working to keep your ass covered from Spades Slick, my  fucking _aunt_ , of all people, and whatever the hell _else_ is out here,  because I'm not entirely sure we've even seen it all yet!” 

She just stands there. “All of this is unnecessary.” 

“There's always time for a satanus ex machina. You’re an Heir of Hope, Ali,” Dirk hisses. “I wouldn’t expect you to know.” His face is contorted into an expression of hate; he wishes he could stop himself, but all his frustration is bubbling to the surface and he doesn’t know what to _do_ about it. “You’re a _Prospit_ dreamer. Get the fuck off of Derse. You don’t belong here.” 

“Dirk, what the _fuck?_ ” 

Void.

The Gods are here.

The tallest of the three, a bleach-blond boy, snaps his fingers, and a lock of hair comes off of Ali’s head. “I can cut off more next time if you want.” 

Rory watches, smirking. 

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Ali jumps and suddenly she’s hovering about 3 feet above the ground. 

“Go!” A visible shiver climbs through Dirk as he speaks. "This is my loyalty to you! You have to be _safe_ and _safe isn't here!_ ” 

Ali slowly rises farther away. “Who the fuck even are you, Dirk?” 

“Oh, I’m sorry!” he yells mockingly. “I’m just trying to keep all of us _alive!_ I’m sorry if you _can’t understand that!_ ” 

“What the fuck does me visiting have to do with any of this?!” 

“I don’t care if you visit,” Dirk says, his shoulders lowering just a bit. “But don’t call all my work for you ‘unnecessary’.” 

“This is just way out of proportion!” 

“I don’t need you telling me when I’m _overreacting_ ,” Dirk growls. With a chop of his hand, a parapet comes off of a nearby cathedral - not Rory’s, of course - and falls to the ground. It comes close to crushing a pair of carapacians in the vicinity. “Don’t try to _control_ me.” 

“I’m not trying to control you, Dirk! I just don’t want you to kill yourself.” 

“Are you implying,” Rory submits calmly, “that him serving under my rule would be a death sentence?”

“No, but his crazy plans are!” 

“‘Crazy plans?’” Rory echoes. 

“My plans have kept us alive this far,” Dirk says, nodding in agreement with the King. 

“Dirk Quintana, you're going to get yourself killed with the business you're on. Slick is too dangerous! What do I have to say to _convince_ you that you _can't kill Slick?!_ " 

Dirk pales. 

Rory stiffens. 

Ali’s eyes widen. 

"Kill Slick?" 

“Fuck," Ali whispers.

"Knight, explain yourself immediately." 

“I wouldn’t…” Dirk backs away both of them, not even aware he’s doing it. “I’m not…” All of his excuses fall lame, he knows. His voice drops to a whisper, barely audible across the ten feet separating him from Rory.

Time slows down. 

_Now what?_

_Your chances of getting to Slick are probably slim._

_Which means there's no reason for me to st –_

_No. You shouldn't make an enemy of Rory. He has the scepter, he has the power, and making an enemy of_ anyone _at this point is probably going to get someone killed._

_So... I..._

_Stay._

“I’m sorry," Dirk whispers to a boy he barely knows, who might have a _little_ more power than he needs, who has to believe that Dirk is in his debt and it doesn't _matter_ whether he really is because saving lives is a manner of honor far and above beyond paying debts."Don’t hurt me.” 

“I said something I shouldn’t have, didn’t I?” Ali says, and goes ignored.

Rory considers him. “I won’t hurt you; however, I may have to punish you for your intent of _treason_. Not physically, I cannot stand the sight of blood, but perhaps… perhaps I shall have to make your submission more clear, Dirk.” 

Dirk pulls into himself, his frame smaller, but doesn’t retreat any further. “I’m sorry, my Lord.” 

“You have been demoted from knighthood. You are now lesser than the imps and you will respond to their orders. With the correct amount of obedience, you may be able to earn your knighthood back. Am I understood?” 

Dirk swallows. _God… fucking… shit._ His throat is dry as _fuck_ and this _isn’t helping._ “ Yes, your Majesty.” 

_Well, he certainly thinks I'm in his debt._

_Step one: accomplished and over with... if in an underwhelming sort of way._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Above them, Tommaso floats, invisible and on an emotional rollercoaster.

In mid-air, backing away from the grounded pair, Ali bumps into some kind of invisible object. 

Both of them freeze.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk clears his throat. “Yes, I understand.” 

“Very good. I expect you to be kneeling whenever possible. You’re too fucking tall.”

_That seems excessive._ Dirk nods. 

He also kneels, because suddenly he’s putting two and two together, and oh, right. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom doesn’t have the time to swear as he jerks back, slapping a hand over his mouth. He’d hoped that _standing still_ would’ve been good enough to stay hidden, he hadn’t been paying attention to Ali… 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali moves backward again, with deliberation, and smacks into the object again. _The_ fuck?

  
  


Meanwhile: 

An alien, hollow voice echoes through his thoughts. _Honestly, she’s not worth the effort of leaving alive…_ Tom avoids growling as he yanks her arm and turns her invisible, too. 

Well, he tries to. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory looks up. 

Dirk follows his gaze, staring at Ali-with-a-suddenly-missing-arm (or, more aptly, _not_ staring at the missing arm, because it is missing and cannot satisfactorily be stared at). He frowns. _Not_ really _the time,_ _Tom_ _._ “ I didn’t do that on accident, did I?” 

“I suspect she’d be screaming more if you did.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Tell him he did and you’re going to fly away to heal!” Tom whispers. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Yeah!” Ali says, nodding rapidly, apparently forgetting the part where she actually tells them that she's going to, y'know, fly away and heal. “Bye!” She turns on a heel and flies away.

“What the _fuck_ …” Dirk mutters. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

...nailed it? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

If this were a comic – a webcomic, maybe – there would be a light bulb over Dirk’s head. But this isn’t a comic, nor is it a _webcomic_ , because it’s real life, and there’s not a light bulb over Dirk’s head. 

Doesn’t matter. He’s keeping it quiet. 

_Rory_ doesn’t know that Tommaso has Dark magic. 

_Who else has the ability to turn_ only _other people’s arms invisible, hm?_ Dirk laughs inwardly. _Who?_

Rory frowns, takes aim, and launches a bone at the disappearing figures. 

Exactly where, incidentally, Ali’s arm is _supposed_ to be.

“Agh, _fuck!_ ” She cries, yanking the injured limb from the grip of whatever strange, invisible force might be possessing her. 

“Well, then,” Rory mutters. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

_Fuck._

So, they didn't nail it. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory launches a volley of bones around Ali – " _AAH!_ " – Dirk taps his finger against his thigh, and every third bone dissipates around them (just enough that Rory, hopefully won't notice) – and then Ali makes it out of her tailspin by way of hitting the purple cobblestone with a _thump_ , visible again. 

"Holy shit," Dirk says, blanching even further. Honestly, it's a miracle he's even _able_ , what with his predisposition toward pallidness and the paling already encompassed in 'step one'. 

“Well, well, well, well, _well_ ,” Rory says. “Tell me the _real_ reason your arm was invisible.” 

_Tom had better be gone by now,_ thinks Dirk grimly, scanning the skies – though of course, he remembers, catching himself, searching for an invisible quarry is pointless. 

“Tell. Me,” Rory growls, and Dirk returns to the moment. 

Dirk appears beside Rory and grabs Ali’s arm, ready to help her up. “Ali? What’s happening?” _If that was Tom, don’t tell him,_ he beseeches silently. _Please, please, please… Tom is_ _honestly_ _the only_ blameless _one in this clusterfuck._

“I…” Her voice is quiet. She stares up at them for a moment, and then her eyes roll back in her head and she falls limp.

“ Ali!” Dirk picks her up, bridal style. “Where…” He turns to Rory. “Where are the servants’ quarters, Lord?”  _ Tomhadbetterbefuckinggoneiswear2god. _

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom is fucking gone he swears 2 god.

But, really, god _damn_. 

Kid may as well have gotten away with murder. 

_Perhaps sometime in the future._

Tom giggles at the rather morbid joke.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“I will lead you," Rory dictates, winding the two of them through several halls. "You are permitted to stand so you do not damage our… _guest_.”  The rooms that they arrive in are scarcely furnished, a marked departure from the fanciful chambers at the forefront of the cathedral... 

_'You are permitted to stand,' huh?_ (Dirk blushes like a motherfucker.) 

He also, y’know, carries Ali after the new (white) Black King, like he's supposed to. Once there, he lays Ali down on the one bed in the room, pretending not to notice the sign on the head reading _Captain_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom pauses and considers. _I_ _t’s just like a fantasy novel, when you think about it._

All he has to do, really, is undertake intense training in order to rescue his true love, dethrone an evil dog king, murder an evil queen, and… you know, whatever is supposed to happen with Ali and Devon. They’re Ali and Devon, they can take care of themselves. 

He sets off for the **FURTHEST** **RING** , to more easily consult the Dark Gods. 

His powers need honing. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“A medic will be here shortly to tend to her wounds.” 

Dirk leans over Ali at an angle that means Rory can’t see him pulling her shirt hem upward. In the skin of her belly (where hopefully the medic won’t check her) appears minor scratches - not deep enough they’ll remain more than an hour, but he knows how long most fits of unconsciousness last. It shouldn’t need to be more than an hour. _I mean, really, people aren't unconscious for more than a couple of seconds at a time without_ significant _brain damage, but who even_ knows _what this whole 'godhood' shit is?_

Scratches pool in Ali's skin. 

_next time trust me_

Ali’s eyes crack open. Very low and very quietly, she says, “What the fuck?” 

Dirk shakes his head minutely and kisses her forehead to cover the time spent by her side, and then stands and nods to Rory. (Ali closes her eyes again.) 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory watches Dirk rise again and nod. To _him_. 

This boy. 

He is a hot hot tater tot. 

Why Rory is only now noticing it, he isn't sure, but _damn_. Rory has a hot hot tater tot slave.

Nice. 

They just kind of. Stand there. For a sec. 

Dirk raises an eyebrow. “Shall I stay here, my Lord? Will this be my place of residence in your…” He considers his choice of words. “Domain?” 

“Hmm. I’d actually prefer to keep an eye on you. Plotting treason is no little thing. You can sleep in my chambers. On the floor. Don’t worry, I will provide cushions.” 

“Yes…” says Dirk, doing his best to keep a doubtful expression off his face. “Sir.” Oh god why did he say that. It just slipped out. Oh my god. He resists the urge to bury his face in his hands again. 

“ ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).”

_STOP LOOKING AT ME LIKE THAT RORY IT WAS AN HONEST MISTAKE._

**( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)**. 

Through masterful self-control, Dirk doesn’t blush. “Then I suppose I’ll be accompanying you through the rest of your duties today, my Lord?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Feigning unconsciousness on the bed, the human embodiment of kinkshaming cringes. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Yes,” Rory says, “that sounds like a suitable arrangement.” 

Dirk does not lick his lips. _Do not do not do not. Do not._ _Eye on the prize. Kill Slick and get out._

_But how do I find Slick now when Rory doesn’t trust me to leave his sight?_

_Oh, fuck you, Ali._

“Wait a second.” Rory eyes Dirk’s attire. “Don’t you think that outfit looks a bit… _princely_ , for one of a _servant’s_ position? I can’t have you looking as  though you might be of a rank higher than my own, that wouldn’t do at all."

Dirk resists the urge to cock his head and ask if Rory thinks he’s not a Prince because if Rory thinks he’s not a Prince he’s got another thing fucking coming. 

Dirk is resisting lots of urges around Rory lately.

_That can’t be a healthy thought._

_Shut up, me._

“If you say so, my Lord.” 

Rory rummages through the wardrobe of the servants’ quarters, pulling out a Dersite servant outfit, which looks around Dirk’s size. Okay, a bit tighter than Dirk’s size, but only by a little bit. Rory isn’t going to complain about that, and, tbh, Dirk can just fucking deal with it. “Wear this instead.” 

Dirk doesn’t fucking budge from where he’s standing. He can deal with a little embarrassment if it makes him trusted. He removes his shirt first, then looks up at Rory for approval, making sure he’s doing what he’s meant to be. 

_Oh fucking fuck yes._ Rory hands Dirk the outfit. Rory is a fucking sinner. 

Dirk’s not sure if the other outfits have underwear built into the pants, but the Prince outfit sure as hell does. He closes his eyes, sparing himself the sight of his own body naked in Rory’s cathedral, and folds the outfit neatly, setting it aside. 

_Look. Calm._

He steals a glance at Rory. 

( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°).

With the utmost patience, Dirk puts on the Dersite shirt _first_ , then moves on to the pants. They’re a little tight, but that’s probably because the imps are a full two feet shorter than him. It’s a good thing they’re _really fucking baggy_ on the imps. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Is this better, my Lord?” Dirk asks quietly, trying his best to retain his dignity and, for the most part, failing entirely. This shirt. Hoo boy. It’s really... hugging his skin. 

“Very good. _Much_ better.” 

Ali rolls nervously, facing the wall and covered in a thin sheen of sweat. What’s that she’s doing? 

Oh, it seems that she is praying. 

Dirk inclines his head, in what he supposes _could_ be considered a bow… if you’re really, _really_ trying. “To your throne, then, my Lord?” He very pointedly _does not look at Ali._ Hopefully, if _Dirk_ doesn’t acknowledge it,  then _Rory_ won’t notice that she’s woken; there’s no reason to have to continue to deal with her, the medic has been summoned for. 

_That's a little rude._

Rory nods. “Follow me.” 

Dirk follows him. 

“Kneel beside me,” Rory suggests as Dirk is led out of the chambers and into the throne room. He deposits himself on, naturally, the throne, and gestures to the floor next to the throne.

Dirk nods, kneeling beside Rory’s throne wordlessly, his machine gun laid beside him. The King and the Prince wait. 

Dirk sighs. _Well, this'll be a shitfest._

Rory smirks. _I haven't had this much fun since Mom and Dad tried to recreate Woodstock._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Shaking visibly out of fear of the unknown, Ali quietly rises as the footsteps of Rory and his weird, wayward Prince fade. She sneaks down the corridors, rounding the corner opposite that where she last heard her compatriots. Over the course of the day, she wanders the halls. An occasional dog crosses her path, and when one does, she stands incredibly still and hopes they don’t notice her. It seems to work, she guesses. Either that, or they just don’t care. 

They probably just don't care.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Elsewhere in the RP, Navo just casually exists, we assume. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory sits in a throne, seriously pleased with himself. 

Smug bastard. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Despite his best efforts, a tremor of exhaustion shoots through Dirk’s body. _Not now_ , he thinks to himself. _You can handle this, not now, not now_ …

The shaking subsides. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A passing imp butler notices Dirk and shoots Rory a questioning look. Rory shoots one back, mouthing: _Don’t fucking kinkshame._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali makes a few too many rights and ends up outside of a room with two absolutely _enormous_ doors. _Wooden_ ones, too, not the stonework of the rest of the cathedral. _Honestly, there is no reason for_ any _two doors to be this enormous._ She pauses, and then lays her ear against the woodwork, listening closely. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“My Lord,” Dirk says, eyeing the renovations on the ceiling from his and Tommaso’s attack, “where is the Black Queen? Uh, if you don’t mind me asking,” he hastens. _Idiot!_ _Don't be so careless!_

“Which one would you be speaking of?” 

“I’m sorry?” Dirk turns to face him, but quickly turns back again to look straight ahead. “There’s only one Black Queen in a session. Though I suppose she could pass on the title, if she so wished… I think she just abdicates, though.” 

“Oh – I see that you’re speaking of the _previous_ Black Queen, not my fiancee. Slick said he would deal with her.” 

“Your…” _Al_ _i_ _BlitzDevonDirkNavoTom_. _Al_ _i_ _and Rory obviously aren't best pals at the moment. He wouldn't touch Devon with a thirty-nine-and-a-half-foot pole._ I'm _right here. And Tommaso is_ _ **MINE**_ _._

_Okay, calm down, kid._

Before he can stop himself: “You aren’t talking about Blitz, are you?” 

“Blitz is my brother, I would think it very inappropriate if I were to _marry_ him.” 

“Navo, then,” Dirk says, keeping a smirk off his face. “Shouldn’t she be ruling with you?” 

“Yes, she should be, but it is no right of mine to police my soon-to-be wife's actions. She is a _Queen._ Irregardless of her duties, she may _choose_ to act as she wishes.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali can’t help but giggle at the pomp drooling liberally from this guy's mouth. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“I thought you were King of Derse?” Dirk questions, putting confusion into his voice.

“Did you hear something?” 

“ I don’t think so. But you know what, you’re right, it’s not my right to judge.” Dirk adjusts himself, to prevent soreness, mostly.  _ How do I get time to locate Slick now? _ (Also, he adjusts himself to hide, um, something else, which is not quite as related to soreness.  Well, not  _ his  _ soreness. )

_ W ow, Dirk. Thirsty? _

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Speaking of thirst... 

Tommaso is devising a plan. 

A plan that will kill several birds with one stone, if he throws it right. In the meantime, though, it would be beneficial to further develop his abilities. 

Above him, the Dark Gods whisper. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Well, being a King is actually pretty fucking boring. Rory pulls out his phone and opens up Dersblr. He taps the screen, and a new text post pops up as the app reloads.

  
  


kingofthedogs: 

just got a hot ass new slave lmao made him wear tight-ass clothes to match his tight ass my life rocks

  
  


Rory is _bored_. 

  
  


Someone reblogged your text post.

  
  


knightbarkalot: 

nice. use protection lmao

  
  


“So, uh,” says Dirk as Rory plays with his phone, wishing he hadn’t left his own in his god tier outfit, “do imps actually come to you with issues, or do you just…” He eyes the empty room. “You don’t just _sit_ here all day, do you?” 

“Well, usually they have _some_ issues, but they’re pretty self-sustaining. I just go on Dersblr all day.” 

Dirk frowns. “Hope you’ve got ebooks on that phone of yours. Must get pretty tedious otherwise.” 

  
  


drwoofclaw: 

im kinkshaming the king

#kingshaming

  
  


preciouscinnamondoggytoogoodforthisworldtoopureguide: 

dont kingshame

  
  


“I find ways to entertain myself.” 

Dirk does not take an eye off of the main door. Why does the entry hall lead _directly to_ the throne room, anyway? Shouldn’t there be further security measures or something? “My Lord, what security do you have in…” He trails off. “I guess there aren’t really enemy armies coming to kill you anyway. After all,” he says, “Prospit is always destined to lose.” 

  
  


edgarallenpug: 

i concur, the King’s sexual preferences should go uncriticized. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali scoffs as she levitates up to the ceiling of the corridor and slips into the room, trying to get a better angle on the conversation. A better story. Something that'll make the papers go _nuts_. Extras for days. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“There are plenty of guards stationed around Derse.” 

In mid-air, Ali slips – she's _so_ bad at flying – but manages to catch herself with only a small “ _fuck”_.

Rory looks up. 

He makes eye contact.

“How do you rule?” queries Dirk, noticing nothing. “I mean, _lassez faire_ , total capitalism? Socialism, what? I guess since the community is so small communism could theoretically work.” 

Rory flicks his hand, and a couple of bones pin Ali’s clothes to the ceiling without so much as a whisper of sound. “It’s more of a dictatorship really. What I say goes, nothing too complicated.” He is still staring at Ali.

"That's not an economic system, Rory. Uh, my Liege. Is it manorial, or..." Dirk glances at Rory (against his better judgment). _What’s he…_ Dirk looks up. “What the _fuck_.” 

“It appears our guest has returned.” 

A whiny screeching sound comes out of Ali’s mouth. Dirk’s lips twist in displeasure. “What should we _do_ with her? We had hospitality enough to bring her in here even after being spied on the first time; she should have left.” 

Above them, Ali moves her arm and her shirt sleeve tears. "Damn it!" It was a good shirt, too.

“Hmmm… I could kill her as a warning, I doubt it would be Just or Heroic, but that seems a bit too much, don’t you think?” 

“You’ve died before, Rory. Would you really want to inflict it on her just because she was curious?” Dirk shrugs. “I’d say we keep her in forced hospitality for now. Preferably alone, fed mainly on dry carbs and water.” The just side of Dirk rejoices. Serves her right for being a fucking idiot. 

_Dirk, don't be so dark._

“You’re just _full_ of good ideas.” 

Not expecting that comment, Dirk’s face actually _does_ heat up that time. “Thank you, my Lord. Unfortunately, I don’t think my god tier abilities will be very good at _binding_ someone to anything.” 

“Very well, I’ll get my imps to restrain her.” 

“Speaking of the imps, how _do_ you summon them?” 

Rory whistles sharply, and the entire room fills with imps. 

“Nice.” 

“The exits are barred!” Rory yells. “Come down peacefully, and you will be forgiven!” 

_The power radiating off him. The control._ _I_ _t’s almost too much._ Dirk’s totally kidding, of course.

_...right?_

Ali’s voice is very soft. “Man, I’m, like pinned up here or some shit I don’t know.” 

Haha what the fuck is he talking about of course that’s right. 

“You should have left the first time, Bradford,” Dirk mutters, not loudly enough for her to hear. _Who do you think you are, some kind of angsty teenaged antihero? Seriously, quit it with that shit._ Unnoticed by the other two players, Dirk blushes and r aises his voice. “Just float down here.” He has to admit the drama is kind of cool, though, and... 

On a more serious note... 

the power. 

That too. 

_Dark is not evil._

Rory retracts the bones from the ceiling's stone, but leaves them hovering around her as a warning. Ali floats down slowly, eyeing the bones the entire time. “So, uh, what’s the plan, fellas?”

Dirk moves behind Ali, tearing off a strip of her sleeve (an action assisted by certain god-tier facets), and grabs hold of her hands. Fully aware he’s too strong for her to break from his grip, he ties them behind her back. 

“Hey, hey, calm _down_ there. This was a good shirt.” 

“My Lord,” Dirk utters, stepping back from her. 

“Well, I did give you a warning prior about meddling in my affairs. I’m afraid you’ve left us no choice but to keep you here as punishment. Show you how _hospitable_ we can be.” 

“So, like, what? Do I get a penthouse or some shit?” Ali’s got a plan. 

“No, more like a dungeon,” Rory confesses. 

“A’ight. Seems chill.” 

“Well, that’s _very_ nice, that you’ll be comfortable, then.” 

“Yeah, man.” She backs toward the door, almost tripping, her balance changed with her arms tied. “Where’s my fucking room? I’m tired.” 

A gaggle of imps seizes Ali and lifts her above their collective body, carrying her to the dungeon. Her voice drifts off into the distance: “Oh, shit, man, full fucking treatment, I see…” 

“I admit,” Dirk murmurs appreciatively, “that kind of power does seem like it would be addictive.” 

“It really is.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The imps _literally_ throw Ali into her cell.

She sits up and crosses her legs. “Can, like, I get my hands untied?” 

An imp growls at her.

“Can that li’l’ sucker bite it off or something?” She frowns. “Hello?” 

The imps slam the door behind them as they file out. 

“You’re fucking kidding me.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Thank you for your advice back then, dear. I _really_ didn’t want to have to clean blood off the ceiling.” 

“You’re welcome, my liege. It’s… _validating_ … to be of service.” 

_You are_ so _weird._

_Shut up!_

“Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying it.” 

Dirk kneels beside the throne again; now he’s brooding. Never too late for Dirk Quintana to second-guess himself, is it? 

Rory gets back to his phone. 

Dirk examines his fingernails. 

Hours pass. 

Dirk examines his fingernails on the other hand. 

A manicure might be beneficial. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali squirms, managing to free one of her hands from the fabric, which she uses to finally, _finally_ , undo the other wrist.

The cell is of stone purple, but this purple is bleached of color, a dreary lilac that may as well be gray. It's unrefined, unlike the rest of the castle's bricks, which are smooth. She runs a hand across the surface, and it comes away with coarse powder beneath her fingernails. Around her, the cell is mainly bare; a small rock shelf lays flat against the ground in one corner. Ali looks closer. 

The word 'BED' is scrawled into it in spidery letters. 

_Oh, good_. 

A single barred window resides at the door of the cell, staring back at Ali as she sits down on the bed and watches what little she can see of the corridor outside and begins to think.

She fucking _knows_ she can escape. 

It’s just a matter of _how._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk looks up at the stained glass windows, rubbing his eyes, his voice tired. “I’d ask if the darkness meant it were nearly time for bed, but it’s always night here.” 

“I suppose it has been some time.” 

Dirk just nods. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

She could fly out, if the window were large enough.

_Just believe in yourself! It’ll work, just have faith._

Oh. 

_Oh._

Faith… 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Should we go to bed, then?” 

Dirk inclines his head, barely. “If your Majesty wishes it.” 

Rory stands. “Come with me,” he says, and leads Dirk off toward the King’s quarters. Dirk follows, considering the tear on his shirt from Ali earlier that evening. _Wish I could mend things, instead of always breaking them…_

“Your shirt is damaged,” Rory points out auspiciously. If he plays his cards right, he could get _laid_ tonight. 

“Yes,” Dirk says, instinctively moving his hand to hide it. “No big deal, it happened when I pulled away from Ali earlier, no point worrying about it.” 

“Are you sure? We may have to take it off to repair it.” 

Dirk steps a little farther away from Rory. “It’s okay, it’s no bother.” 

“Well,” Rory sniffs, “for _appearance’s_ sake, if none else, we still _cannot_ have your clothing torn. I wouldn’t want people to think I was mistreating you,  now, would I?” 

Dirk nods slowly. “If it’s what you want, my liege. I only do not wish to be a burden.” _What exactly are your feelings for this child, Dirk?_ something inside him asks, some other part of him, slower and less caught up in all of this. _Because personally, I’m pretty sure you got yourself into_ _rather_ more _than you meant to._ “ Do you have other uniforms in your chambers, my Lord?” 

“I believe so. If I do not, it will be of no consequence, regardless. My imps will bring you something.” 

Dirk lets his hand fall back to his side. It’s not like it’s a large rip; it won’t be difficult to repair. _You’re not being a bother. What’s being a bother is you thinking you’re a bother. So fuck off._

When they get to what is (presumably) the King’s Quarters, Dirk tries to step in front of Rory and pull the door open for him, but the imp guards do it before him – naturally – and he’s left standing there in mild embarrassment before he follows Rory inside.

The self-proclaimed Black King snaps his fingers, and an imp snatches a flurry of cushions from the surrounding area, lays them down on the floor at the foot of the king-sized (lmao) bed with a blanket. “This is where you will be sleeping,” Rory informs him imperiously. 

“Thank you, my Lord,” Dirk says, bowing again. His eyes move around the room in a mechanical fashion – rather a lot of ornate mirrors, aren’t there? Those could be easily broken, someone could get hurt, and… _D_ _oes anyone really need that many chandeliers in one room?_ _The place is_ lousy _with them, there’s that central one, and four surrounding that, and eight around_ that _–_

“So. You better get changed again, seeing as our ‘guest’ has ever-so-rudely torn your outfit.” 

Dirk removes his loafers ( _where the fuck did_ _Rory_ _get those?_ _I didn’t see any outlet stores last time I was on LOSAI_ ) and cracks the door open, placing them in the hallway, then returns to the bedroom, beside the blankets serving as his mattress. He hesitates briefly, then removes his shirt. He folds it and places it on the bed, then stands there, waiting, tense. 

Rory eyes Dirk, thinking sinful thoughts. “It won’t be hard to repair this, I’ll get my imps working on it right away.” 

“Should I…” Dirk steps toward a purple wardrobe on the far end of the room, his back to Rory. 

_There’s scars…_ Absurd as it is, Rory is struck by a sudden need to _take care_ of this kid, where’d he get those – those long scars down his back? They can’t be from those jellyfish of his that Rory’s heard about, Dirk god-tiered _after_ the debacle with Satan. Where are they from? 

Rory catches himself moving forward, lowers his hand slowly as he tries to keep his image in check. 

He can _feel_ Dr. Woofclaw’s celestial, kinkshaming gaze upon him (layered with the kind of disappointment only a Royal Alchemist can provide) as he unsubtly checks out Dirk’s frankly _amazing_ ass. 

Dirk removes a bright pink dress from the wardrobe, shoots a questioning look at Rory, and then pulls out a purple corset and repeats the action, with admittedly more acid the second time. “Is there a shelf in the back I’m missing?” he says, standing on his toes to feel around the highest shelf. 

“Personally, I’ve never used these wardrobes before; I just wear my Bard outfit.” Liar. Though that dress _has_ seen better days. He should really stop playing golf with the imps in a dress, it tends to tear when he runs. Rory is a very excitable golf player. “I suppose you’ll just have to use whatever’s in there. I believe corsets are… _in_ , this season.” 

Dirk actually _drops_ the hanger for the suit-coat he’s holding, then turns, slowly, to face Rory again. He picks up the deep purple corset and raises his eyebrows. “My… liege?” 

“You’re not going to disobey an order, now, are you?” 

“No,” Dirk says, shaking his head. “Of course not, my Lord. As long as it’s my size, I suppose,” he adds under his breath, and – _h_ _ow the hell do you put on a corset?_ –  wraps the front around him. He starts by lacing the top grommet down, then frowns and removes it. “I…" He places it on the bed in front of him, and then continues to lace it. Once the laces in the front are tight (and those in the back, loose), he shrugs it over his torso and fastens the busks. He fumbles behind his back for a moment with the back laces, debating with himself, then says, in a voice barely louder than a whisper: “...my Lord.” 

“You look _wonderful._ ” 

Dirk is screaming on the inside. 

Quietly, some part of him sneers in disgust,  _ You have no control. _

“Th – Thank you, my Lord. But, um, could you…” He swallows. “Could you lace me up in back, please? It’s an awkward position, it’s difficult for me to get them tight…” 

Rory walks over to Dirk, and begins to lace up the back of his corset. 

Dirk’s eyes close as he sucks in what little gut he has (he’s abnormally skinny for someone of his stature). Before he can stop himself, a word escapes his lips as Rory laces him: “ _Tighter_.”

Dirk’s eyes fly open and he claps a hand over his mouth. “I – ” He spins to face Rory, backing away – “I’m sorry, my liege, forgive me – ”

“Shush,” Rory says dismissively, moving behind the thin, blond boy again. He pulls tighter. 

Dirk’s eyes fall closed and a whimper escapes him. “My Lord…” He turns just his head, looking over his shoulder at Rory. “I can’t… What about Navo?” 

“Oh, yeah. Navo.” Rory pauses. “Well, she didn’t seem to mind that terribly when you fucked Devon. I’m sure this is completely fine.” 

Dirk’s jaw nearly drops, but he realizes: _Influence_. And this is _definitely_ in no way because of any kind of innate longing in _him_ … right? 

_You are disgusting._

Dirk swallows. “If you say so, my Lord. I – I _shall_ serve my King.” 

Rory finishes lacing up the corset, probably just a _tad_ bit tighter than it’s _supposed_ to be. “Turn around so I can see you from the front.” 

Dirk turns, his chin up (but his jaw anxiously clenched), presenting himself for his King. “Do I satisfy you, my liege?” 

Rory looks Dirk over, then nods. “Perfect. But I think I need a closer look.” He leans in close, his breath warm against Dirk’s lips.

_Influence_ , Dirk reminds himself, and presses his lips to Rory’s.

He entwines one hand in Rory’s hair, moaning into his King, and breaks the kiss, breathes: “My _Lord_.” 

Rory faints. 

_Oh my god._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom is… doubting himself. Does he _really_ need to beat the game? Winning the game could change everything; it could take away his powers, and, wow, does he love his abilities. He’s learned to blind people, to walk through walls, to _alter memories!_ (Well, to erase memories, but he’ll get there eventually, probably.) All with the help of the Gods.

He loves expanding what he’s _capable_ of. 

Honestly, Tommaso is in _love_ with Dark magic. 

  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk downs some allergy pills. He has no problem with dogs, but if they’ll help him get to sleep, so be it. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Somewhere in the RP, Devon still exists, too. He’s on his land, and, let’s be honest – he’s probably sinning. 

  
  


16 16


	16. Cyanide

Saturday, November 14th, 2015: Part One

Dirk stirs. 

He glances over at Rory; still asleep. _How many pills does that kid go through?_

He is so fucking sick of this goddamned corset _why_ did he have to _wear_ this it is _so hard to sleep in_ and it is time to locate his fucking Prince clothes because he has had _enough_. 

Dirk pushes open the door to Rory’s quarters cautiously – it’s well oiled, good… 

The door stops. 

Oh what the fuck is this. 

Dirk kicks the sleeping body of Ali Bradford in frustration. He only kicks her a little, though, and she rolls over, unawakened. 

Dirk is still kinda pissed off at how _stupid_ she is. He leans down, picks her up, and then drops her about 2 inches down onto the stone floor (hip first, not head). 

Ali jerks awake. “What the fuck, man?”

“ _Shh!_ ” Dirk hisses. “Why are you still _here?_ Get back to Prospit! I’ll meet you there once I’m done here, but you can’t get caught!” 

“Wait, what?” Ali says blearily, rubbing her head. 

Dirk looks back at Rory. His form is immobile… for now. “Is _everyone_ in the damn _session_ swiping pills from Rory? I don’t know _what_ he’ll do if he finds you here again. You should leave.” 

“Oh, yeah. _That_ shit.” Ali rises to her feet. “You’re not gonna question how I got out of the cell? Surprised, Dirky.” 

“I don’t really _care_ how you got out.”  Can’t he do _anything?_ “I’m sure there’s a number of ways, and… You know what? I don’t have time for this.” He  shoves Ali away (Dirk, that was rough) and stalks away from the doors. “Follow me if you care to. I’m getting my clothes back.” 

“Sure! This place is a lot more exciting than Prospit.” 

_Weren’t you the leader, Dirk? Didn’t you have the plans? You couldn’t even foresee_ this _coming –_ “Why are you even _here?_ ” 

“I came here – to Derse – to chat, originally. Then, I don’t know, I never really left, I guess. Got locked up and shit.” 

Dirk begins their descent down a flight of violet stairs. “I suggest you leave _now_ , then, so that you don’t get locked up again.” 

“No way! This is, uh, it’s sorta like a game. How many times can I piss off Rory before he does something about it?”

Dirk shakes his head, turning at the landing. “He’s going to kill you eventually, you know. And he’s right, it won’t be Just _or_ Heroic, he can do it more if he wants.” 

“Who cares? When he kills me, I’ll leave him alone. Besides, he’s not _actually_ the kind of person to do that, however he acts. He’s just a _kid_ , Dirk. He’s playing house – well, playing castle – but you’re all taking yourselves too _seriously_. ” She holds up a finger. “Don’t tell Rory about this, it’ll ruin the game!” 

“Fine,” Dirk mutters, opening a door on the left of the corridor. Evidently unsatisfied, he shuts it again and carries on. “I won’t. Have fun with it.” 

“Trust me, I will! I _do!_ ” she laughs. “He wouldn’t hurt me. It’s not in his nature.” 

Dirk files away that thought, in case it would be prudent to share her sentiment with Rory sometime in the near future, and pushes open another door. “Oh, dear. There’s imps all over the floor.” He _tsk_ s. “Servants’ quarters… right.” 

Ali sneezes. 

Dirk steps inside, playing hopscotch over the sleeping imps – 

“Wha – ” SNEEZE, goes Ali – 

he backtracks wildly – 

“ _What_ are – ” SNEEZE –

he trips over the last imp and falls out the door, slamming it shut, but with clothes in tow. 

“ Can’t you  _ fly? _ ”  Ali  points out finally,  wiping her nose on her sleeve.

Dirk looks at her, baffled by the sheer _sensibility_ of the question, then nods, once, his jaw set, and grabs her hand, whisking them off back toward Rory’s bedroom. _Stop it! Stop being so… You need to get back in_ control! Dirk ignores whoever’s in his head shouting at him in favor of just dropping Ali onto the purple stone, stumbling into the bedroom, and diving for the pile of blankets on the floor just as an imp approaches to shake the King awake. Outside of the chamber doors, he can hear Ali sneezing. Dirk waits with trepidation to discover whether Rory saw him returning. 

Nothing happens. 

Dirk rises and sees Rory still asleep in the bed. The imp throws his hat on the ground, stomps on it, and storms off. 

“Dirk,” a very quiet, singsong voice calls. “Do you – ” _SNEEZE_ – “have  any allergy pills?” 

Dirk motions to the imp, who argues inaudibly through a variety of complex hand gestures before another, less irritable imp shows up with a beaming smile and a bottle of pills. By this time, Ali is waiting inside the room, impatient.

Dirk just lays in the cushions and regrets his life choices. 

Ali quietly tiptoes next to Dirk and sits on his chest. “Yo.” 

“Interesting game you’ve got,” he says shortly. “Know where Tom is?” 

“Not a damn clue. Why? You want man-candy or something?” 

Dirk smirks. “Maybe, Bradford. Maybe.” 

“Shut up, you _know_ I don’t like being called Bradford.” She flicks his nose. 

Dirk sighs. “I kind of like not being on such bad terms with Rory.” He cranes his neck to look at Ali. “Think there’s a possibility I won’t have to leave?” 

_That’s some strange word choice._

“ Nope. This is just…” Ali shudders, remembering the pair’s, uh, conversation. “Kinky and disturbing.” 

“You were there for that.” Dirk is silent for maybe half a minute before he speaks again. “I kind of like it, Ali. I…” His jaw tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens. “If I’m serving a master who makes all my decisions for me, I don’t have to make any choices for myself. You know?” He sighs. “It’s been a day, it’s way too early to be talking like this. Both in the whole scheme of time here and by the clock.” 

She pokes his cheek. “It’s also your hormones talking.” 

“I want to belong to him,” Dirk whispers, then shakes his head. “It’s the middle of the night, this is stupid.” 

“Isn’t it always night here?” 

Dirk scoffs. “Yeah, it is, makes my emotions _extra_ navigable.” He fails to turn onto his side, since Ali is on top of him. “Come on, just leave, won’t you? I need to sort this stuff out on my own.” 

“Nope. Game’s not done yet.” She snorts at some kind of image she must have just gotten into her head, or something. Dirk doesn’t ask. 

“Well, at least get off of me and let me sleep, alright?” 

“Nope. Part of the game is annoying you, too!”

Dirk turns over anyway, pushing her over his side, and tries to get to sleep. 

She lies on top of him, facing the ceiling. “Dirk, I’m _bored_.” 

_How did you get here?_ “I don’t care, Ali. I’m trying to get Rory’s loyalty permanently and how you factor in only matters if you’re fucking with my goal.” He glares at her. “And it’s better not to. Don’t forget I can just decapitate anyone I want to.” 

“It wouldn’t be Just or Heroic, now, would it?” She pauses. “It could be Just, but really, just for _annoying_ you? I really don’t think you’d gamble with those kinds of stakes.” 

_You’re worthless as a leader. Look at this. You’ve failed. You have no plan, no_ real _plan._ “Doesn’t matter. You’ve died before, Ali. Need I remind you that it’s not a pleasant experience, _regardless_ of whether you’ll come back to life afterward?” Dirk’s heart is pounding as he tries to – to _manage_ , if nothing else, his growing frustration. 

Her smile drops. “It wasn’t that bad.” 

_You can’t even get Ali off your back._ “Go away.” 

“No.” 

Don’t you want to at least pretend you’re in control, Dirk? “Last warning, or I’ll start fucking with you, you have no _idea_ how frustrated I can get.” Do it. Do something. _Anything_. 

Take

control. 

“ I’m not leaving.” 

Dirk grabs one of her fingers. 

“What are you doing?” 

He stares at her in the darkness. “I’ve been generous to all of you throughout the session, haven’t I?” he murmurs, barely loud enough for her to hear. “ _Helpful_ , even.” _Control –_ The word comes out a snarl. “And _why_ , with no benefit to myself?” Suddenly there’s a gash on the top of her finger, a small, but perfectly straight and perfectly clean line, dribbling blood. “Maybe I’m going backward,” Dirk says. _Control._ “All I know is that if I am, I’m that much more entitled to my privacy as I want it. And you _know_ I’m hella dangerous.” His use of the word is completely unironic, and somehow that makes it even worse. “So when I tell you to leave me alone…” he says, his eyes glinting – _control –_ “next time, _leave me alone._ ” A similar cut appears on the bottom of the same finger, and this time it grazes bone. “There’s only so much more that I can _escalate_.” 

A tiny little orb of white light blossoms around the finger, then flickers out. Ali nods, unable to speak, not looking at him; the light again surrounds her finger, and this time, when it fades, it is healed. 

_I’m sorry._ Dirk doesn’t say it. _Control._ “Out.” What _have you_ done? _Control_ , answers some other part of him, happily. “Out.” No trace of the horror he feels is in his voice. _Contr –_

“ What the  _ fuck _ , Dirk?”

_Ali._

Thirteen years old, her voice is trembling.  “ Why would you _do_ that?” There are tears in her eyes. 

_I’m sor_ – 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Online!** [7:09AM]

  
  


EH: I’m just saying I’m still alive. That is all

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Offline!** [7:09AM]

  
  


Dirk doesn’t look at the phone buzzing in his clothes. “Get out of this room.” _You can_ _trust me_ because _yes she can of course she can you just need to get a_ hold _of yourself_ and “Leave me. I won’t do that again, but don’t disobey me.” _That was a mistake._ But he seems incapable of repairing it. 

_Control._

_ _ _ I won’t let you say sorry. _

Ali slowly floats toward the door, but she doesn’t exit _quite_ yet. She leans against the frame, just staring at him, her face blank and devoid of emotion. 

“I just need some time to sort things out,” Dirk qualifies, turning away from her. “You can still trust me. I’m still on your side.” 

His back to her, Dirk fails to see her mouth her soundless reply: _No, you’re not._

_She’s not –_ _She’s not_ gone _._ _Really, what do I have to do?!_ Dirk’s shoulders shake as he begins to cry. “Please – leave – me – alone.” He doesn’t mean to address Ali, by now, or anyone, really, and certainly not himself. “I shouldn’t have done this.” He doesn’t turn around. 

“Dirk – ”

“Ali, I changed my mind, don’t go.” 

Ali smiles. 

She starts to laugh. 

Dirk is still sniffling, but not full-on crying anymore, his back still half-facing her. “Ali, no, I’m sorry, please, I don’t – I don’t, know, what, to _do_ – ” 

Ali’s feet touch the ground and she runs at him, and, blindsiding him, wraps Dirk in a hug. He begins to sob in earnest, loud, wracking, unable to speak more than a syllable in a few seconds. “I – I – I – ”

Ali just hugs him tighter. His arms, too, are wrapped around her, holding her tight and begging her to _please don’t let go_. 

“ I’m s – s – sorry,” Dirk chokes. “I don’t know wh – what to d – d – do, p – please help m – me, Ali, I d – ” He takes a long, rattling gasp. “That w – was the right, choice, wasn’t, it?” 

“Was what the right choice?” Ali says softly, as if trying not to startle a deer. 

“I called you b – back,” Dirk says. _There’s still good left in me_.  That, he doesn’t say. _Contro –_

_ Shut up! _

“ I don’t think we should dwell on whether or not something was the right choice. We should focus on making the next choice better than the last.” She hugs him tighter. “You’re not a bad person, Dirk.” She does not give voice to her less charitable thoughts.  _ It’s not like there wasn’t _ _ good in you. You just have to _ find  _ it again. _

Dirk’s fingernails are digging into her skin. “I need your help, Ali. I need your help, I can’t do this alone, this – it’s like darkness, _inside_ of me, I can’t beat it on my own… Why would someone nearly take off someone’s finger for _disobeying_ them, why?” 

“Dirk, you’re delusional. You need to calm down. You’re not in your right mind right now. We really should get out of this place for a while. It would give you time to relax and resettle.” Pointedly, she ignores the sharp stabs of Dirk’s fingernails. 

He shakes his head slowly, still not letting go of her, not even opening his eyes. “I’m not like you,” he whispers. “There’s _evil_ , it has been there _so long_ and I don’t know how to stop it.” He looks at her, suddenly switching tracks. “But I can’t leave here, I have to kill Slick, it’s what’s best for the session, Rory won’t trust me if I don’t stay here…” Then he’s back to the first idea, his hands shaking as he insists that he has to “fight the darkness.” 

“No, no, no, Dirky, this isn’t good for you. Can’t you just separate his head from his body and not have to gain Rory’s trust in the first place?” 

“I have to find Slick,” Dirk says. “But Rory will only tell me where he is if he trusts me. I’ll kill him then, it’ll be easy, like you said, separate his head from his body, I can do that easy, but I have to find Slick.” 

“You can’t just have us search Derse? What, _you_ can’t get an answer out of him? You’re _Dirk fucking Quintana!_ Master of persuasion!” she laughs. 

“That’s a little unfounded.” Dirk pulls away from her, his hands on her shoulders, eyes strangely uncomprehending staring into hers, but understanding returning as they move into his field. _Planning. We’re back on track._ And somewhere inside him, a soothed voice purrs, _Control._ “Maybe – I show him more kindness? Less submission might be the way to go, make him trust me on a _personal_ level, not just through loyalty, I can do that, I think.” 

“Make him trust you through friendship.” 

“Yes, I was improvising, after you showed up, but I can plan with you here, it doesn’t work so well alone, or with him, since he’s the one I’m supposed to be – well, deceiving. But I’ll still give him obedience, because obedience _will_ still help… Make him respect me somewhat, though, too. But I’d appreciate it if you helped with a search on the side.” 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging sexySlytherin [SS]!** [7:12AM]

  


ER--->SS: youre on derse, arent you???

ER--->SS: ali and i have a plan, and i know you have a knack for secrets. think you can find out where one spades slick is???

  
  


“Could you look through the castle first, please?” Dirk looks at her, and he smiles. “Don’t get caught.” 

Ali shakes her head. “Come with me. I’ll get lost.” 

As she steps toward the doors, Dirk pauses, then moves to the wardrobe, removing a t-shirt; he tears this into two flat pieces, cuts appearing in the fabric which read: 

  


_G e t t I n g c o f f e e_

_\- K n I g h t_

“ I’m ready,” Dirk says, after laying out the cloth on the stone floor. 

“Don’t you have a pen and paper or something?” she giggles, holding the door open for him. 

“ I’m sure as hell not going to ask an  _ imp _ for them,” Dirk points out, stepping out of the doorway and peering right. “If I remember, the stairs upward on  _ that _ side lead to the treasure room. To our left is the path downstairs, housing the servants’ quarters and the throne room… probably the kitchen, too.” Dirk goes right (but bypasses the upward stairs).

  


♞

  
  


Three hours of searching and the quarters of the Archagent are _nowhere to be fucking found_. And how close is it to morning anyway?  Don’t ask Dirk; _he_ can’t tell, because the sun doesn’t  even _rise_ here. (There has to be a light side of Derse _somewhere_ , right? This is _not_ how astronomy works.)

“Can we, like, sit down for a little bit?” 

“ _You_ can sit down,” he snarls, pacing. “I’ll just be _continuing_ to _pace_ _aggressively_ up here.”  He continues to pace aggressively, up there. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory wakes up.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali sits crisscross on the floor, discouraged, her limps flopping about. “What time _is_ it, anyway?” 

“ No idea.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

He looks about for Dirk – begins to panic when he isn’t there – spots a marred length fabric on the stone floor beside him. 

_Knight? First I tell him he’s_ lower than an imp _, and now he’s promoted himself_ _back up to Knight? How_ presumptuo – 

Wait.

Wait one fucking second. 

Suddenly, Rory sees the _real_ implications of this note. It’s all laid out before him – every piecemeal clue, every path, every choice. He sees every player in the game, and how their passions and their ideologies have worked in joint to form this unforgivable monstrosity of an event. 

And the King of Derse cannot – _will_ not – allow these horrible crimes to continue. 

Grimly, his bones congregate at his side. 

He likes _tea_ , not fucking _coffee_. 

He’s got to warn Dirk. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ Rory appears to have an internal clock,” Dirk contributes, “he knew when it was time to go to, um, bed last night.” 

“Odd.” 

“Yes, it’s almost as though he’s operated on a fixed, routine schedule for much of his life. How suspiciously healthy. More topically, are you ready to call this off yet? At least, for tonight? We can reconvene tomorrow, if I think of another reason to be out of bed in case Rory wakes up.” 

“Sure thing.” Ali rises to her feet. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory skids across the carpet of a corridor’s corner, loses his balance, and smacks into the tapestry hanging from the wall, then, hyping up, races down the next hall toward the kitchen. He _can’t_ let Dirk use up the last of the coffee, Dr. Woofclaw _needs_ that shit. It’s like he lives on it or something. In fact, it’s entirely possible he _does_ live on it. Dr. Woofclaw is a strange imp. 

  


Meanwhile: 

“You should get back in that cell. Do you know the way from here?” 

“Well, no.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory breaks from a run into an all-out sprint down the last stretch, bypassing two figures with a screeched (and slightly-panicked) “Excuse me! Royal, Kingly business coming through!” He’s not letting a guy who has access to _explosives_ go without his coffee. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk and Ali stare as Rory sprints past. 

Him gone. 

Ali snickers. 

“Alright, then. Ali, why don’t you try and find your way back to the dungeons? Ask an imp for help or something if you need it. I’ll follow Rory, pretend I’ve been searching for the kitchen since before he woke up and _just_ found it.” 

“How do I get back in the cell? It’s still locked.” 

Dirk stares at her. “How’d you get _out_ of it?” 

“Hope bullshit.” 

“Well, then, there you go.” Dirk’s feet lift off the ground and he drifts off in Rory’s direction. “You’ll find a way. Just believe in yourself.” 

“Huh? No, man, it was, like, a one-time use thing! I don’t think I can do it again!” 

Too late, Ali. Him gone. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory bursts into the kitchen. He scans the room for signs of Dirk, but finds only Dr. Woofclaw sipping his 14th coffee today (and probably vagueblogging on Dersblr about Knight Barkalot, but Dr. Woofclaw’s personal life and romantic relationships are no more Rory’s business than they are any Dersite civilian’s… which is to say that Dr. Woofclaw’s personal life suffers from chronic Dersite-civilian’s-business-being. What, like the fact that the empire is feudalist is supposed to mean that such sufficiently-advanced societal constructs as _gossip_ might not exist?). 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Rory?” Dirk calls. Shit, there’s a fork in the corridor. He asks a passing imp where the kitchens are. It shrugs. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“You’re kidding me,” Ali says as the entrance to the dungeons appears down the hall. Should they really be keeping the dungeons this close to the kitchens?

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory taps the doctor on the shoulder and asks him if he’s seen Dirk anywhere. Woofclaw shakes his head and goes back to arguing with _his_ most  favoriteKnight. 

They. 

Are. 

_Adorable._

  


Meanwhile: 

Oh, no. Dirk knows where this is going. Whichever path he chooses, it _will_ be the wrong one. No doubt about _that_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali sits down and stares at the cell door. _What the fuck did I just even_ do?

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“My Lord!” Dirk yells, as loudly as he can, then sits down in the middle of the fork and waits for someone to stumble upon him. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory hears someone calling to him. 

Rory hears all. 

Rory flies back to the fork he passed to go down to the kitchen, and spots Dirk.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Purely out of curiosity, Ali jiggles the handle to the cell door. It clicks open. “What the fuck,” she mumbles.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ My liege!” Dirk says. He looks  _ stupidly _ relieved to see him. “Shit, I got lost on the way and… Fuck, you weren’t supposed to be out of bed, I just wanted to make you coffee.” He begins laughing, and infused in it is all the stress of the past night, trying to make itself hidden.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

She steps inside the cell and closes the door, then tries the handle again, just to be sure. Again, it pops open. “What the _fuck_ is this.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“It would be wise to stay away from the coffee…” Rory advises him. “I don’t touch the stuff and the Royal Physician lives off it. If you wish to serve me a morning beverage, tea will suffice.” 

The weird relief on Dirk’s face vanishes as he again adopts the persona of the king’s royal servant, returning to a comforting impersonality. He bows. “Yes, my liege. I apologize for subjecting you to all this bother on my behalf. Are there any other tasks your Majesty wishes me to carry out?” In his pocket, his phone vibrates, unheard. 

  
  


SS \---> ER: oh trust me, I got slick handled ; )

  
  


♞

  


An imp slams open the cell door. Rory is standing in the doorway, all dramatic-like. His codpiece – how it glistens in the torchlight. “Ali,” he says in a commanding tone,though the… _regality_ of it all is a bit put off by the fact that Rory’s voice is almost as high as Ali’s, even if it _is_ deeper than both hers and Dirk’s. Hell, the _imps_ bark at a lower pitch than Rory. “I have come with the intent of conferencing with you.” 

Still sitting on the ground, she spins around, hovering just a tiny bit to reduce friction. She overshoots the distance and ends up about 45 degrees off of facing Rory. “What’s buggin’ ya?” 

“Do you want any tea?” 

“No, thank you. But I could go for some Coke.” She giggles. 

“Our stocksare dry in Coca-Cola products. No more Earth, remember? _In media res_ , where _res_ means the apocalypse, we have tea, coffee, and water.” 

“Ah. Then I’m good. Might I ask what you’ve come to talk about, anyway?” 

“You _may_. And that _was_ what I came to talk about. I don’t want you dying of dehydration.” 

“It’s alright! I had a water earlier.” One water. One singular water. 

Rory does not question this. “You did? Thank goodness, the guards are treating you well. Do you want any pillows? I mean, you are my prisoner, but you’re also my guest.” 

“No, I think I’m good. Thanks, though!” She offers a smile. “How long am I staying here? I kinda just want to go back to my house and lie in bed.” 

“You know, if you wanted to go home, you shouldn’t have stayed at Derse in the _first_ place.” 

“But that would mess up the game!” 

Rory gives her a _look_. 

“ It’s a game I made by myself, for myself,” she continues. _Of myself?_ “It lasts until you, the King, do a certain thing (which I’m not going to say because that would ruin the game). Once you do the thing, I leave! No questions asked. It’s really fun.” 

“Oh my god. I’m never going to get any privacy, am I?” 

“ It depends. On a side note, isn’t it  _ weird _ to write a note in  _ fabric? _ Like, whatever happened to paper and a pen, am I right?” is she  _ write _ folks hahahahaha lmao

“I don’t keep writing things in my bedroom. I mean, I do, but they’re locked away in one of the wardrobes. I forgot which one.” 

“Really? Could’a’ sworn I saw a notepad. Oh, well, whatever.” 

“Probably one of the imps’ things.” 

“Probably. For a king, your room could be bigger. You deserve way more if you’re a _real_ King.” 

“I _am_ a real king.” 

“Sure,” she says, rolling her eyes. “If you were a real king, your castle wouldn’t have such a shitty security system.” She taps the door knowingly.

“I could have _sworn_ I told the guards to lock the door.” 

“How _easily_ I escaped,” she laments facetiously. “I expected more from you, Rory!” 

“Well, _excuse_ me, I’ve only been King for two days.” 

“Nonetheless. If you plan on having prisoners, you should up the security.”

“You know, prisoners typically want the security around their cells to be worsened, not bettered.” 

“Prisoners aren’t typically friends with their imprisoner.” 

“Do you think we’re friends?” 

“I always liked to think so, but now that you mention it, I’m not so sure.” 

“Hmm. I mean, I did imprison you, so.” 

“Personally, that means nothing to me.” She taps the door. “It’s getting muggy in here. Can we go for a walk? Walk and talk?” 

“Alright. So long as you don’t try anything.” 

“ _Me?_ _TRY something? PREPOSTEROUS!_ ” 

“You’ve already escaped once.” 

“That’s true. It’s your call.” 

“I really don’t have any reason to lock you up, besides the fact I was annoyed you were following me everywhere.” 

She gives the most smug grin anyone could possibly give. “I _am_ annoying, so I can see where you were coming from.” 

“At least you’re not as annoying as Devon.” 

“True that, man. Devon’s just… Wait a second. Wait, how did you and Devon even become – how did you and Devon _stay_ friends long enough for him to get invited into the gamespace in the _first_ place? What the fuck?” 

“...it’s a long story.” 

“I don’t know about you, but being a prisoner gives you just about all the time in the world. I’ve already written my complete memoirs.”

“Really?” 

She gestures to about a sentence’s-worth scratching in the far wall. 

“You don’t know the people in it; it wouldn’t make any sense.” 

“Alright, then. It’s up to you.” 

“ All right  _ so.” _

_“_ _So.”_

“I t all started because _Gabe_ was being a _little bitch._ ” 

“Of course.” 

“Actually, maybe Devon should tell you this story. I mean, I don’t want to ‘tarnish his innocent image’ with any falsehoods I might slip into the tale.” 

“Devon’s not too well at telling stories, though. He might tell it very poorly.” Ali isn’t too well at telling grammar. 

  


Meanwhile: 

A few hours later, as Dirk busies himself chatting with a few kitchen imps – none of them particularly interested in what he has to say, and his interest draining rapidly as he realizes the effect carries both ways – a familiar apparition floats down through the ceiling. 

“Oh, holy hell.” 

Rose favors him with an acidic glare. “I feel _quite_ the same.” 

“Where the hell did you come from?” 

“Surely even _you_ , our unfortunately-Blood iteration, can understand it easily enough? It _ought_ to be intuitive. Your egg was empty, once you managed to divide it from its amalgamations – shockingly like a powerful Prince.” 

“What?” Dirk says eloquently. 

“You are so _very_ clever,” the guide says with disdain. 

“What do you mean egg? And amalga –”

“I was wondering whether you would have to ask that, after Blitz. It’s a pity the effect _you_ lot had on him, but, goodness me, he’s almost like my own… I believe Blitz called the egg a Kernel, and amalgamating _programming_.” 

“ Oh,” Dirk says, trying to sound intelligent… 

“Y’know, _everyone_ in this universe is for the worse because of you. Look at me,” Rose spits, gesturing to his floating guide body, his magenta tail. “This is sick. It’s inhumane.” 

“Why is your neck at that angle?” Dirk almost reaches out to touch it, but his hand stops. It looks… painful. _Really_ painful.

“I caused your friend, Blitz, to breed the Universe Frog, to make this session fruitful again. After that, I had no purpose – not that I had any reason to assist in this filthy game you’ve created anyway other than respect for an alternate iteration of _me_ , however weak. So I hanged myself.” 

“And then you got prog – amalgamated? I don’t know much about Blitz, he never talked much, but I didn’t get the feeling that he would, um…” 

This guide iteration of Rose gives him a sideways glance. “Your _tia_.” 

“ I can’t decide whether she’s a dangerous rogue element or an asset to the team at this point.” 

“She seemed to think I was you. Touching, but ultimately a miserable move. I’m doomed to life with all of _you_ now. A life doomed was bad enough.” Rosesprite shakes his head, his bitter expression showing no signs of change with a sip of black coffee. This is likely because the coffeeis black, and therefore bitter, just like Rose’s expression. Dirk awards himself +1 detective point in his head. “This thing you’ve created,” Rose says, his lip curled in disgust, “this thing with that _Rory_ child… It’s _freakish_. It’s against our nature.  You are meant to have _control._ ” 

“I’m here to kill Slick,” Dirk reminds him. “I _do_ have control.” 

Rose’s eyes narrow and he presses a finger to Dirk’s chest. His words are twisted in a sneer of enmity. “You’d better be.” 

“Why are you even _here_ if you hate me so much?” 

Rose straightens, his posture perfect in his recital, strangely pridfeul. “I’ve already destroyed all the other timelines and forced this one into Alpha status – which, by the way, is a genocidal act of nigh-absolutes – but from this point on, the choices your players make _will_ spawn new timelines. I thought my debt paid; I thought I was allowed to leave; now I am a compass and I am back here _again_ and my god tier powers remain no longer. I want to make your game succeed. If the session wins, you move into the new universe, this one is destroyed. And I along with it.” 

“A quest dedicated to futility,” Dirk remarks. “Just like a Prince of Time, isn’t it?” 

Rose scoffs at that. “Do not be so presumptuous, or so pretentious, or so _melodramatic._ You think you know Princes of Time? You think you know about this game? I am a compass now (though my… _your_ Blitz called me ‘guide’), and even before this… this disgusting _corruption_ of my _self_ and my _ending_ , I knew infinities more than you possibly could. For instance,” he says, his eyes gleaming, “I know that no two Heirs can coexist in the same _winning_ session.” 

Dirk’s eyes widen.

Dirk chats with his new guide. 

An agreement is reached.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“And that, Ali, is why myself and Devon _used_ to be friends.” 

“That was unexpected.” 

“It’s a thrilling tale, isn’t it?” 

“Indeed. It would have been such a shame were anyone to somehow miss it. For instance, by some kind of cutaway or timeskip.”

“Yep.” 

“So, can we take a walk? It’s getting _small_ in here.” 

“I don’t see why not.” 

Ali smiles to herself. “Great! Where can we go on our walk?” 

Rory smiles back, dazzlingly toothy. “We can walk around the prison cell.” 

“How about we _don’t_ and I can get some food other than bread.” 

“ Alright. How does gruel sound?” 

“You’re kidding me.” 

Rory shrugs. “ _I_ don’t know how to cook.” 

“ I do! Show me to the kitchen and I’ll make us a little something-something.” 

“I’m not sure there is any food in this place. I think Carapacians just photosynthesize, or something.” 

“Really? If you let me go home real quick I can make up some soup.” 

“I don’t think we even need to eat.” 

“It’s about the thought that counts.” 

“I’ll get one of my dogs to fetch food from your house.” 

“I don’t want dogs in my house! I’ll be sneezing for weeks!” 

“It’s too late. Within my empire resides a town (or an outpost, at the very least) on every planet so I can keep a surveying eye on all of you. Except for Navo. I trust her, and there’s not much land to put a town on anyway. I’m pretty sure the extent of that land is literally, like, that _one_ rock, and its barely big enough for her house and about ten biplanes.” 

“You didn’t even ask first? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think? You _know_ I have allergies.” 

“As do I.” 

“ But you _like_ dogs.” 

“And you don’t?” Rory sniffs, looking off into the opposite direction. “I’m mortally offended, Bradford.” 

“Why are you offended? I’m just a cat person.” 

“Ew.” 

“ _Ew?_ Cats are cute! And most of them are hypoallergenic!” 

“They’re _gross_. I’m _allergic_ to them. Dogs are loving, caring, loyal. Cats just want your food.” 

Ali gasps. “ _Don’t talk to me._ ” 

“Also, they scratch you.” 

“Dogs bite you.” 

“Only if you’re mean to them.” 

Ali spins around and walks to the back of the cell, then plops down, facing the wall. “You’ve offended me.” 

“Well, you’ve offended ME.” 

“Come sit in sorrow with me.” 

“You know, it probably wouldn’t be wise for you to talk about cats around here.” 

“Why not? Cats and kittens are my favorite things in the world.” 

“This entire place is filled with dogs with extraordinary hearing.” 

“Then they will all know that I LOVE CATS and they are SO CUTE!” 

The door slams open. Countless canine imps growl outside. Tens – hundreds – not quite a thousand, probably. “I did warn you.” 

Hilarity ensues. 

“Fucking HELL, Rory! Get them _off!_ ” 

“I warned you about the cats, Ali. I TOLD you.” 

“RORY –” SNEEZE. 

“Alright, fine.” 

SNEEZE.

“Squirrel!” Rory yells, pointing somewhere out the door. Doggish imps bound after the imaginary rodent, barking at decibel levels higher than a person who practices contortionism for therapeutic purposes screams when they’ve gotten themselves stuck in a pretzel knot.

Ali sits up, covered in dog hair and SNEEZE-ing viciously. 

“Don’t overreact, half of those dogs didn’t even _have_ fur.” 

She flips him oSNEEZE.

Rory floats over to her, procuring a feather duster from his sylladex, and begins to dust her off. 

She wipes her nose. “I don’t need you to help me.” 

“Do you want to keep sneezing?” 

“I got this co –” SNEEZE!

“Well, obviously, you don’t.” 

“Shut up,” she retorts lamely, trying to shoo him away.

“You shut up.” 

“No, you shut up, King _Boner_.” 

“ You shut up, Catlover.” 

“Your Dickness.” 

“Peasant.” 

“Self-proclaimed _dictator_.” 

“ Banana-colored windsock.”

“ I don’t know  _ why _ you’ve got a heart on your chest when there’s none  in  _ you _ .”

“I’m a Bard, dumbfuck. By very definition I’m not _meant_ to have a heart. I destroy them.” 

“How _fitting_ a god tier.” 

“What are you implying, Ali?” 

“I’m implying that you’re _kind of a dick._ ” 

“I’m offended.” 

“That’s not new.” 

“Well, you _are_ very offensive.” 

“I’m not offensive! I just say what’s on my mind.” 

“Maybe you should think about things you say before you say them. You don’t want people to get offended by your mindless words. Oh, wait.” 

“They’re only mindless _half_ the time, I’ll have you know.” 

“Still. They’re offensive.”

“Honestly, I couldn’t care less if I’m offending you. Because you _are_ a dick.” 

“Rude.” 

“It’s not even rude at this point. It’s just true.” Ali glares around her (undersized) cell. “When can I get _out_ of this thing? I’m starting to get uncomfortable.” 

“When you’ve learned your lesson not to _spy_ on people when they tell you to _leave_.” 

“ Oops. I guess it’ll be… oh, about _never_ , then.” 

Rory’s lips twist into a sneer. “Why are you so _damn_ intrusive?” 

“Intrusive? I don’t know. I think I just like to hear people’s conversations. Not really wanting to intrude, but to hear nice little stories.” 

“Dirk and I were going to – were going to have _sex_ and you were listening to it through the door. I’d say that’s pretty intrusive.” 

“How did you know that?” 

Rory rolls his eyes. “I do have _imps_ , Ali.” 

“Well, do you really think _I_ of all people would want to _hear_ that kind of thing?” 

“Then _why_ did you stick around once it was about to be _happe_ _ning_ _?_ ” 

“ I mean, at first I didn’t  _ notice _ you guys were gonna bing-ban g the ding-dang, but –”

“Don’t ever call it that.” 

“Call what that? The oodle-doodle?” 

“Oh my fucking god.” 

“What? What’s wrong? Something wrong with the dingle-dangle-jingle-jangle?” 

“STOP.” 

“What’d I do? Was it something I said?” 

“Stop referring to sex with stupid names!” 

“Don’t call it sex. It sounds… dirty.” 

“How innocent _are_ you?!” 

“I don’t know! I’ve just never been in a relationship! Alright?” 

“...oh, yeah. But still.” 

“But still, what? I don’t have _experience_ with this shit. That’s that.” 

“Well, seeing as I’m getting married, you had better catch up. Get yourself a significant other, or _something_ , Ali.” 

Ali runs a frustrated hand through her hair, messy with grease and dirt and not-having-showered. “It’s not that easy! Everyone has relationships with everyone else. I’m just… _there_.” 

“ I’m sure you could be with someone if you tried.” 

“Bullshit! Name someone!” 

“...Devon.” 

“He’s not even slightly interested. And he frickle-frackled with Dirk.” 

“So? Just ‘cause you fuck someone doesn’t mean you wanna be with them.” 

“Really? Then why do the dangley?” 

“Sexual attraction _doesn’t_ equal romantic attraction.” 

“Okay. But still. He looks down on me like he thinks I’m some kind of little kid – I mean, he even related me to his _maid_ , I _hate_ that. So, not Devon. It _sucks_. Everyone’s always interested in everyone else,  and I’m not…” Ali exhales heavily, and whispers, too quietly for Rory to hear, “I’m not interested in _anybody_ , I think.” 

“I’m sure Dirk might be open for some polyamory,” Rory prattles on. 

“ _NOT DIRK!_ ” 

“What’s wrong with Dirk?” 

“He just… He scares me, okay? Like, he terrifies me. _Constantly_.” 

“ What about… Blitz?” Rory pauses. “Is he even still alive?” 

“I don’t think you can really count Blitz as part of this. He’s eighteen years old.” 

“Hit on my possibly-dead brother, Ali. Just do it.” 

“I don’t even know what he’s like! He’s definitely out! I’ve never even _talked_ to him.” 

“What about… me?” Rory says, accompanying this with suggestively-waggling eyebrows. 

A wave of heat rushes through Ali. _How am I supposed to respond to something like_ that _without killing his feelings?_

_On the one hand, I’m_ not _interested._

_On the other hand, I don’t want to hurt his feelings, and… I don’t want to feel_ broken _anymore. Normal people want sex… right?_

“ I mean, the _least_ I can do is give you a chance for a li’l somethin’-somethin’ in this romance-dead session.” 

“I…” 

“I mean, it’s not like I particularly like you or anything, but if you’re so _enamored_ with me that I have to sacrifice a few things, if only for _your_ sake –” 

“N – No!” She’s blushing. “I don’t – I’m not –”

“I mean, I can’t blame you for being attracted to me. If I was you, I’d be attracted to me as well!”

“ I’m not – Rory, I don’t think I like you that way! I mean, sure, you’re attractive, but…”  _ You’re  _ _ fucking it up! _

“Ah, so you _do_ find me attractive! Good to know.” 

“Stop it!” 

“Stop what?” 

“Stop putting words in my mouth!” 

“I’m just repeating what you’re saying, love.” 

“I – I didn’t say that! I never said you were _hot!_ ” 

“‘I mean, sure, you’re attractive’. End quote.” 

“Oh, fuck off!” Ali ducks her head between her knees.” 

“Fuck off, or fuck _you?_ ” 

“FUCK OFF!” 

“No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Because this is my game, Ali.” Rory smiles. “I won’t leave you alone unless a specific condition is met, and I won’t tell you what that is. Sound familiar?” 

“...you are _such_ an ass…” 

“True.” 

“So is this really a game?” 

“Yes.” 

“Oh, fun. And what do you do in the game?” 

“I already told you the rules.” 

“That’s the rules, but what do _you_ do?” 

“Just stay here, with you. Forever.” 

“Whoop-dee-doo. So you’re just gonna bug me?” 

“Yes.” 

“Great. Well, first things first, no, you’re not attractive.” 

“Then why did you say I was?” 

“I, uh, misspoke.” 

“Uh-huh.” 

“Shut up. Everyone in the session is pretty damn hot.” She frowns. “Well, except for me.” 

“Except for _Devon_.” 

_Everyone else thinks Devon is hot, right?_ “No, you’d be surprised, actually. He showered at my place, he’s pretty attractive, cleans up well. Caught a glimpse of those abs.” 

“Ew.” 

“Shut up. You’re pretty much on the same level.” 

“EW.” 

“Shut up! Gosh, you’re so rude.” 

“You’re ruder.” 

“At least I’m nice.” _Get the conversation away from sex…_ “Wanna know who’s pretty nice?” 

“ Who?” 

“Navo. She’s, uh, nice, she’s funny, pretty –” 

“That’s my _wife_ you’re talking about.” 

“ Ew.” 

“What?” 

“A prepubescent child saying the words ‘my’ and ‘wife’, in that order.” 

“I’m not prepubescent! I’m fourteen.” 

“Still, fourteen is really young.” 

“How old are you, hmm?” 

“I don’t know. Like, thirteen?” 

“You… don’t know how old you are.” 

“I really don’t. I stopped celebrating my birthday after I turned seven. I _think_ thirteen, but then, again, I don’t _know_.” 

“ What year were you born, Ali?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know. Around 2002?” 

“What date?” 

“Let me think. Mid-June?” 

“And seeing as today is November 14th, you’d be – oh, fuck, _November?_ It may as well be _Christma_ _s!_ Go worry about your  own bullshit, I gotta decorate Derse!” 

“It’s Christmas?” 

“CHRISTMAS.” 

“How old would I be?” 

Rory pauses, already halfway out of the dungeon door, and turns to face her again. “Can’t you do the math?” 

“I’m _lazy_ and you already did it! Just have the imps decorate, I don’t want to be sitting here alone again.” 

“Fine. You’d be thirteen.” 

“Damnit! You’re older than me!” 

“Ha!” 

“Shut up! It’s only a year’s difference.” 

“ _You’re_ the prepubescent one here!” 

“I already knew that!” Ali says, blushing. “And so are you! You can’t just marry someone when you’re _fourteen!_ ” 

“Well, I can, and I did. _I_ make the laws around here.” 

“It’s creepy. And Navo consented?” 

Rory smiles. “She _suggested_ it.” 

“ You’re kidding me.” 

“Nope.” 

“Why the fuck is everyone so _insane?_ ” 

The smile drops. “That’s ableist.” 

“What? What the fuck is that?” 

Rory’s inner morality avatar has activated. The soul of a far-off warrior once known as _Kankri Vantas_ rises and assumes control of his body. “Let me educate you.” 

“Oh, God. Please don’t make this too long, I need to pee.” 

“Piss yourself for all I care. You have to hear this. Now, first off, Ali, ableism is a term for system offense against those with mental illness. Your statement ‘everyone is insane’ was utilized by you as an insult, which is quite derogatory, I’m sure you’ll agree, and also implies the existence of simple ‘insanity’, which, medically, is nonexistent. It is _obsolete_. Furthermore, your usage of it implies that the possession of a mental illness is wrong or something to be feared, which it is not. I find this _quite_ offensive, Ali, so please could you check your privilege before speaking such ableist words in my presence.” 

Ali’s voice has been lowered to a whisper. “I just meant to say that no one is acting like themselves lately I’m sorry can I use the bathroom now.” 

“It’s just through that door,” Rory says, pointing to his left, opposite the dungeon exit. 

“Well, can you open the cell door, man? It’s kinda, y’know, a cell.” 

“It’s unlocked.” 

“Was it always unlocked?” She stands and steps out of the cell.

“Yep.” 

Ali slowly walks in the opposite direction of the bathroom and _ever so carefully_ toward the hallway, all the while maintaining eye contact with Rory. He stares back, unblinking. It’s kind of creepy.

She takes the final step outside.

“RORY!” Dirk literally runs into Ali as he turns the corner, smashing into her in entwined limbs.

“Dirk!” she scolds.

“Ali, who let you out of the cell?” Dirk pants. 

Rory comes out. (Dirk hurriedly untangles himself from Ali and kneels.)

Ali moves carefully behind Dirk.

“Once you’re free, my Lord, I have something of… relative importance to discuss with you.” He glances at Ali. “May I ask your reasons?” 

“I faked a pee,” Ali pipes up.

Dirk nods. “Alright, then.” 

“Ali,” Rory says, frowning, “did you know that you’re _very_ problematic?” 

“In what way am _I_ problematic?” 

“A lot of ways. Do you want me to list them all?” 

“I’m not problematic, though!” 

“Reason number one: consciously attempted to commit _genocide_ by withholding the source of the Earth’s salvation from the majority of the population, dooming them to die a horrible, fiery death via meteor. Reason number two: thinks that Devon is attractive, which, honestly, may just be the biggest sin of all. Reason number three: ableist outlook on mental illness, and was really just generally ignorant about mental illness in general. Reason number four: spied on people while they were attempting to engage in _sexual activities_ , completely ignoring any sense of personal _boundaries_ or the _privacy_ of other _people_. We’re not your personal porn. Reason number five: keeps escaping the dungeon. Reason number six: hates dogs, loves cats.” 

“ Jesus Christ! Half of that stuff is not under my control!” 

“Yes, it is.” 

“I don’t choose who I find attractive, it’s not my fault I’m ignorant about things that I didn’t even know about, and, for the last time, I didn’t know you two wanted to _frickle-frackle!_ ” 

“You heard us. You could have _absconded_.” 

Dirk is giggling. Not giggling darkly like a Prince ought to do. He’s _giggling._ It’s terribly unsophisticated.

“Wow.” Rory grins. “That’s actually really cute. Your laugh is cute, Dirk.” 

“I’m just gonna…” Ali turns and flies around the corner, disappearing from sight as Rory shuffles up closer to Dirk, whose looks suddenly a little unsure. He straightens up from his kneel.

“Thank you, my liege.” He raises an eyebrow. “Is this a good time, or do you intend to chase her down again?” 

“Let her run. She’ll be back, anyway. What matters do you wish to speak to me about?” 

Around the corner behind them, Ali waits, her ears metaphorically perked.

Dirk nods, looking thoughtful. “Did you ever meet Rose?” 

“No, I don’t know who that is.” 

“Probably better for you, then.” Dirk sighs, running a hair through his hair. “Rose was… my alternate iteration, I suppose. A Prince of _Time_ instead of _Blood_. Selfish, bitchy, arrogant. He set our timeline back on the right track,  from, um, metaphorical damnation. He saved Blitz’s life so that the session could succeed. Fast-forward, Rose’s job is done in fixing the session, Rose hangs himself. But my _tia_ – who thinks he’s _me_ – revives him by placing him inside the sprite that _I_ have just recently split open and unprot – unprogrammed, returning it to a Kernelsprite. ‘Enter me,’ Rosesprite says, in parentheses.”

“And how does this concern us?” 

Dirk smiles, but it’s twisted, and a shiver rolls down Rory’s spine. _His eyes didn’t_ actually _just flash black, right? They’re_ hazel. _Of course not…_ “Rose recently contacted me. And Rose has quite a bit of interesting information about what exactly a session requires to succeed… or, rather, doesn’t require. And it _doesn’t_ require two Heirs in the same game.” It doesn’t look so much like he’s smiling as like he’s baring his teeth. “You see the inference, don’t you, my liege?” _I wish there were a pool table, so I could lean across it aggressively_.

Around the corner, Ali’s eyes grow wide. 

“ I guess it comes down to this, then. The Heirnger Games.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Somewhere, somewhen, Devon senses a bad pun, and cringes.

1 18


	17. Amity (Part One)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another two-parter.

#  Saturday, November 14, 2015: Part Two

Meanwhile: 

“That was a horrible pun, my Lord.” 

“I apologize.” 

“Apology accepted,” Dirk says, smirking. “But, seriously, we need an Heir dead for the session to succeed. And Ali could be a lot more useful, I suspect, than Devon could.” 

Ali sighs in relief.

“Well, then. Let’s kill this bitch.” 

Dirk’s eyes light the fuck up. 

“Jesus Christ, Rory,” Ali whispers. 

“To be honest, I was looking forward to this for a long time.” 

“I know, my King,” says Dirk, his voice taking on a deeper cadence of leavened irony. “So how do we do this?” 

“Grab and stab,” Rory says, moving a strand of hair away from Dirk’s eyes.

Dirk steps back from Rory, not having realized he was keeping so close, then shakes his head and begins to pace, back and forth across the hallway. “Devon is an Heir of Light… he’s inherently protected by luck. But I am _quite_ the offensive player – that’s not arrogance, it’s the truth. If I can attack from behind him, so he won’t know it’s coming, that would be ideal. Where is Devon now?” 

“No idea.” 

“Great. Who do we know that _can_ find him? I wonder if our _guides_ would be able to…” 

Ali floats out from behind the corner, her voice timid even to her own ears. _They’re plotting_ murder. _Rory looks so caught up in it, which I guess I can’t blame him for, but Dirk just looks… Well, he looks_ pleased _…_ “I know where Devon is.” 

Dirk spins, takes three long strides (one, two, three), and grabs her by the shoulders, staring at her, that light still flickering wildly in his gaze, bright. “Where is he?” 

“Jesus Christ, Dirk. Have some patience.” 

Dirk frowns. “There’s no reason for me not to put you back in that cell if you don’t tell me where Devon went, Ali.” He blinks, then straightens up from his position, and a little of that glimmering fire escapes him. “Where?” 

“Tell us, Ali,” Rory commands from a few meters back.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Ali says, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. _Stall._ “Let’s play a quick game, huh?” 

“You _know_ , of course,” Rory says, pushing past Dirk, “that we _could_ just kill you.” 

Dirk looks at Rory uncertainly, but flicks his hand nonetheless, the top half of a wall sconce clattering to the stone floor in cursory and almost pointless demonstration. He nods to himself, biting his lip, then steps back to stand beside the King.

“You could,” Ali agrees, peering disinterestedly at the piece of sconce, “but then you wouldn’t know where Devon is.” 

“Yeah,” Rory reminds her, “but we wouldn’t _need_ to kill him then _anyway_.” 

“ And you want _Devon_ in your session?” 

“He’s been keeping to himself, at least,” Dirk points out. 

Rory shoots him a dirty look, then returns his attention to Ali. His shoulders relax, and Rory shrugs. “Well, I mean, you don’t have any sort of relationships with anyone, really, is the thing. I doubt anyone would be _particularly_ heartbroken if you died.” 

Ali blinks. “What? What do you mean?” 

“You shouldn’t,” Dirk says, turning to face Rory entirely, ignoring Ali. “I’m sorry, my Lord, you shouldn’t do that…” 

“It’s true, though,” Rory argues. “I mean, we _do_ just have to kill one Heir. We could just kill _her_. She’s here, she’s vulnerable, she’s unarmed. It would be easy.” 

“ Y – Yes, I meant…” Dirk looks away. “Sorry, your majesty. Never mind.” 

“No one would care?” Ali says, trying her best to sound offended, and they look at her again, and somehow, the fact that she managed to lose their attention even in this state just makes her feel worse. 

“Well, of course they wouldn’t,” Rory says, stepping close to her. “Why would they?” He’s learned about romance from some of the scholarly imps, from the ones who peer into other universes and the ones who dream of Dark Gods. _I will make this black ship sail._ (From Knight Barkalot and Dr. Woofclaw, in particular.) 

“They’d care!” But she refuses to make eye contact again. 

“But _would_ they, though?” 

“I don’t know! Of course!” 

“Or is that just your Hope blinding you?” 

_Trust someone in this session. Trust anyone. Trust_ _– T_ _rust Rory._ Dirk’s eyes snap open (though he didn’t realize he was keeping them closed) and he kneels down beside Rory, not for the sake of submission, this time, but to look Ali in the eye. His voice is quiet. “Who?” 

Ali stamps her foot, her lips pressed tight. “What the _fuck?_ Of course people care about me, w – why wouldn’t they?” 

Dirk refuses to look away. _Stop, stop, stop, this is wrong_ … “Tell me, Ali,” he urges. “ _Who?_ ” 

“Who _what?!_ ” 

_No,_ replies another part of him, _you can’t justify killing someone to win a game and then say that being_ mean _to get information is wrong._ “ I’m sincerely asking.” He’s growing louder now, but he’s not lying. He _is_ being sincere. “Who do _you_ think cares?” _Me, I do, come on, Ali…_

“ No one, I guess! Not you, not Rory, not Navo, not Tom, not Devon! _No one_ fucking cares!” 

Dirk’s heart kind of sinks in his chest and he can’t help but stumble over his words. “S – So where is Devon?” 

Ali collapses to the floor, pulling her knees to her chest, a tear eking its way out of her right eye. “Why the fuck would I tell you now?” 

Rory looks stunned for a moment, then sits down beside her, adopting a softer tone. “You know, Ali, um… You don’t _have_ to be lonely. You’re just not trying hard enough to form any connections.” 

Dirk shoots a look at Rory like _Don’t interfere_ (though of course Rory doesn’t get his _meaningful look_ , that kind of thing only works in books and movies) and leans forward, his words right beside Ali’s ear. “You can tell us because _I_ care about you, Ali, and I _don’t_ want you to have to die.” He says this in a whisper, and hopes desperately that Rory hasn’t heard him, because even just _saying_ that he’s blushing now, but it’s all a bit too late for that anyway now if he has.

“Dirk,” Rory scolds, “stop interrupting my flirting.” 

Dirk blinks, and the world realigns around the word ‘flirting’, and Rory settles back into _Good, if misguided_ territory instead of _Suddenly and inexplicably enjoying of emotional torture_.

“ You just don’t want Devon in the session,” Ali protests. “You couldn’t care less about me.” 

Dirk grabs Ali’s waist, his face grim, and heaves her up. He’s strong, she’s light, it’s not that hard. He literally carries her back into the dungeons; Rory doesn’t follow. “Are you quite sure?” Dirk breathes, this time more for effect than for the sake of hiding his words.

  


Meanwhile: 

Rory removes the mobile phone from his pocket. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Why would I tell you guys when you’re being so _mean_ to me?” 

Dirk sets her down on her bed, his teeth grinding, his jaw tight, and spins around, leaving, slamming the cell door shut. “This’ll keep you protected. You don’t die, and that means that Devon _has_ to.” He backs away. “I’ll s – see you around.” 

  
  


**derseSovereign [DS]** is now **private messaging doctorWoofclaw [DW]!** [8:33AM]

  
  


DS \---> DW: Give me black flirting tips please.

  
  


Dirk legitimately hisses at Rory once he’s back in the hallway. “ _How_ do we lock that door? Where’s the key?”

  
  


DW \---> DS: Who are you attempting to woo this time? 

  


“One of the dog guards should have it,” Rory says absently.

  
  


DS \---> DW: Ali Bradford.

DW \---> DS: Why?!

  
  


Dirk whistles. A dog shows up. Dirk cuts off a couple pieces of fur, giving him the impression of some kind of inverted mustache. The dog runs off. Another dog returns by _that_ dog’s instructions. This dog has the key. Dirk orders the dog to lock Ali’s cell; the dog locks Ali’s cell. Dirk is still pissed, but not stupid enough to actually hurt one of Rory’s dogs. 

  
  


DS \---> DW: I dunno why are you banging that knight imp of yours huh don’t hate on other’s romantic lives don’t judge

DW \---> DS: I am not “banging” him. I’m a dog. A skeleton dog.

  
  


“Diiiiiiiirk,” Ali groans, “can I have some food?”

  


DS \---> DW: So are you saying you have a BONE-r for him? 

DW \---> DS: I am going to start a rebellion, so help me dog.

  
  


“ _ Fuck off! _ ”  Dirk slashes a few times, at various walls of the castle. “Ugh!” Pieces of stone break off,  but for the most part, his temper tantrum goes unnoticed .

  
  


DS \---> DW: Please don’t.

DW \---> DS: Fine. But only because you own all the Purina beggin’ strips.

  
  


Having barely avoided chopping Rory in half, Dirk strides off, glaring at nothing in particular and looking ominous. _She is insufferable!_

  
  


DS \---> DW: How did you woo Barkalot? 

DW \---> DS: It just happened. He was the instigator. Just ask him. 

DW \---> DS: By the way... 

DS \---> DW: Please don’t say you’re kingshaming me.

DW \---> DS: I’m kingshaming you.

DS \---> DW: Goddamnit.

  
  


“Y’know what? Fuck it.” Rory flies over to Ali’s cell. It’s only a couple roundabout meters away, but, whatever, flying’s faster, and easier, until he smacks squarely into the rock doorframe. “ _Ow!_ But more importantly!  I’m sorry! I was trying to _flirt_ with you and I think I fucked up!” 

Ali rolls over to face the door. “If that’s flirting, I’d hate to see what you and Navo do. That was emotionally traumatizing.” 

“It was black flirting, not red!” 

“Rory, I think that’s racist.” 

“NOT LIKE THAT!” 

“Then what were you trying to _do?!_ ” 

  


Meanwhile: 

Somewhere outside of the King’s cathedral, Dirk is tearing apart other cathedrals and kind of _shrieking_. His voice is high.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“...enter a kismesissitude with you.” 

“ What the fuck is that?” 

“Like. It’s when two people hate each other very much, and then, like… kiss. And stuff.” 

“What the _fuck?!_ You want to do that with me?!” 

“Is that a bad thing?” 

“I – I don’t know, man!” 

“It’s what Dirk and Devon were doing!” 

“Okay? I still don’t know how to feel about this.” 

“It was just a pleasant thought,” Rory says.

“Pleasant?” 

“Yeah.” 

“I still don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to this. I mean, I really fucking hate you, but I don’t know if I hate you in that way.” 

“Ah. Well, if you don’t hate me that way, can you stop hating me? I’m not sure I would be comfortable with you platonically hating me, since the entire reason I was trying to make you hate me is because I wanted to smoochyousoyeah.” 

“You want to what?” 

“What?” 

“You want to ‘ _smooch_ ’ me?” 

“...maybe.” 

“And you think the only way to kiss me is to hate me?” 

“...yeah? I already have a matesprit, and WHATEVER the fuck Dirk is.” 

“ What does that even  _ mean?  _ Rory, what is a matesprite? ” She pauses.  _ I really fucking hate him… _

“A _m_ _atesprit_ , not _matesprite_ , is akin to traditional human romance,” Rory says helpfully.

“I don’t know, man. I might _not_ platonically hate you. I really hate you. Everything about you makes me cringe.” 

“Sorry.” 

“So what sort of commitment would this ‘kismesissitude’ involve?” 

“Uh. I’m not exactly sure, to be honest. Just. Kissing, and hate-dates, and stuff. Like, we can watch movies, and then insult each other, and it’ll be great.” 

“I see.” There’s dead silence for about a minute. “Sure.” Then her eyes squint nearly closed, though it makes her look more like a member of the gentry who’s lost their glasses than it does make her look frightening or angry. She is, after all, thirteen years old. “You _cannot_ tell _anyone_ about this. Do you understand?” 

“Okay!” Behind his back, in practiced perfection, Rory is blind-texting his impish group chat.

“Not even your _mutts_. ” 

“Got it.” 

“You better.” Ali knocks on the door. “Can you open this thing?” 

“Sure.” He opens the thing. It’s still never been locked.

  
  


♞ 

  


Dusk. 

Or it would be, were Derse’s surface not constantly and consistently blocked from nearly all starlight. _Seriously, what is_ with _this astronomy? It makes no_ sense. Dirk slips into the dungeons, carrying a tray. His head is down, but he has a bruise above his right eye, almost in the middle of his forehead. “Ali?” His voice cracks halfway through the name.

“What do _you_ want?” Wow, _she_ doesn’t sound annoyed at _all_.

He slides down the side of the wall, face in his arms. “I brought you some stuff.” On the tray that sits juxtaposed to him against the cell bars, a collection of biscottis, eclairs, and other, chocolate-covered sweets reside.

She looks at the tray and turns away.

“ I’m sorry.” This time his voice breaks, but he doesn’t make any outward movement, and the words lack any kind of emotion other than a sense of utter hopelessness. He’s crying now, his shoulders shaking, but it’s almost totally silent. “I, I, get, car – car, ried, away…” 

She twists around again and watches him for a moment. “Yeah. I can tell.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tommaso has finished talking to the Dark Gods, for the last time. Lately, he’s started to hear them wherever he is, but now he has enough information to finally do something. He’s learned to change his appearance slightly, and to make his voice sound like anyone else’s, especially if he’s, y’know, actually heard them before. Yes, he has a few tricks up his sleeve… _But_ _there’s_ _still one_ _last_ _thing_ _before my_ _plan_ _can be realized_. 

Tommaso smiles.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory is dicking around somewhere in the castle. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon is killing imps, and shit.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory’s imp killing senses _a c t i v a t e_.

He speeds off toward Devon’s planet,  magical bones at the ready. His Seerish imps have informed him of the practices that Devon’s employs in order to satisfy his lust for power, and what sentries Rory has sent to LOPAL have been killed. Even his imp village there had to get rerouted to the other side of the _planet_.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk. “I, don’t – ” His breath hitches before he catches it this time. “There’s – no, _control._ ” Unbeknownst to him, the stone around him is turning to dust, slowly dissolving in its place everywhere within a centimeter of the thin, pale boy’s body.

“Dirk…” 

His grip, hugging himself, tightens. He kicks the platter nearer her, but not hard enough to actually upset any of the food on it.

“Dirk, please. You need to calm down.” 

“ Uh,  _ what? _ ”  he says, head up, voice suddenly full of venom. “ _ I _ need to calm down? Really? What  _ ever _ –” (a piece of cell bar comes loose) – “could have given you  _ that _ idea?” His hands are trembling.

“Dirk.” 

A cut appears on his forehead, dark blood dripping down over his eye. He turns away, blinking rapidly, and the blood looks like it’s sinking into the white space, dying it red. More, minor cuts begin appearing across other parts of his skin, and if one were to look closely, they would see that the abrasions match perfectly those tiny scars inflicted by his jellyfish consorts just before his first death. “ _What_ am I even supposed to _do?_ ” 

“Just relax. Close your eyes and take a deep breath. I can go get you some – some bandages, if you need them.” 

Dirk’s breaths sound more like a series of hiccups than real inhalations, he sounds like he’s choking, and he doesn’t respond for a long time. But nothing else breaks. 

Well, nothing but her control, and Ali rushes to the cell door, and, “Oh, Dirk, are you _okay?_ ”

He’s still crying, but Dirk, still facing away from her, grins through the tears. “So you do care about me,” he says breathlessly. “I was – I was starting to wonder…” He laughs weakly. “I – I’m sorry, Ali.” 

“What are you sorry for? You shouldn’t be apologizing! If anything, _I_ should be!” 

“Try not to lie to me, Ali, it doesn’t help.” 

“I’m not even lying! I’m sorry for spying on you and ruining your conversations. I’m sorry for messing up your plans and I’m – I’m sorry I get in the way of everything.” 

“You don’t have to be an obstacle. I…” Dirk’s head jerks to one side, and then he gets up, nearly falling in his haste – stares at Ali, as though seeing her in a new light – “You can be an asset, too. Numbers are power, right? Now is…” He begins pacing. “Now is the time… Yes, we have to do it now, _now_ , where’s Rory?” 

“I don’t know… He was wandering around the halls last time I checked –”

“ _I_ didn’t see him –”

“Don’t you think you should sit down? You’re still bleeding!” 

“ I – ” He looks down at his arms,  tiny, slick droplets congregating at every third inch of his limbs . “Fuck. I –  no, I don’t want to sit down, I’m hyped up  _ now _ .” His eyes are wide. “We’re going to Devon’s land, come on, let’s go!” He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet; his hair, shaggy even after a week, forms a comically bouncing frame around his face.

“Dirk, please, just _rest_ for a minute or two. You’re gonna bleed out!” 

“ I’m not – I ain’t – this isn’t – where’s Woofclaw?” 

“I’ve been in my cell all day. Do you really think I know?” 

Dirk whistles, tosses a few words to the dog that appears, and Dr. Woofclaw is there soon enough. After he gets past Woofclaw’s sardonic facade, a box of bandages are brought to him (or, more accurately, thrown at him. He wasn’t very polite to the physician).

“What about that stuff that prevents infection? Don’t you need that?” 

Dirk shrugs jerkily, slapping the Ace tight around himself. He rips it with his teeth, and soon, his arms – which carry the heaviest damages, up to his wrists – are wrapped in Ace. He elects, though, to leave his neck and face, both of which are also exposed, bare. “Thanks,” he mutters, handing Woofclaw the box back, and the canine imp just narrows his eyes as he backs out the door. 

Someone isn’t fond of the Royal Knight.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine. I –” Dirk looks toward Ali, but his eyes aren’t focused on her – he looks like he’s staring beyond her. “Are you sure we can’t just go now?” 

She points to the cell door and gives him an _are you serious?_ face. “What do you think?” 

“It’s not –?” Dirk steps up to the cell door and tries the handle.

“You locked it, remember?” 

“Ah – oh. That’s…” Dirk looks abruptly worried. “That’s new.” He steps back and slashes at the cell door, and the lock shrieks off, the sound of tearing metal irascible, narrowly missing Ali’s _head_.

(The cell door creaks open.) 

“ Watch it next time!” 

“Rory!” Dirk calls down the hall, already out of the room. “Ro –” He cuts himself off and whistles again. A servant imp is consulted. This imp speaks with another servant imp, who speaks with a cook, who speaks with a member of the Guard, and apparently Rory is gone. “Apparently,” Dirk says to Ali, “Rory is gone.” 

“Thank god. I fucking hate that kid.” 

Dirk grins. “What’s Devon’s land, again?” 

“No clue. I don’t really focus on those things.”

“Let’s see,” says Dirk, pacing again, bouncing, up and down, up and down, he’s almost skipping. “We have Smoke and Fracture, Aurora and Masquerade, Night and Bullshit, Stasis and Frogs, Survivors and Indices. So whatever’s not any of those, it’s Devon’s!” 

“Alrighty, then.” 

Dirk strides right out of the nearest exit and holds out his hand for Ali, waggling his eyebrows. 

“God damn it, Dirk.” She takes his hand, an apprehensive look on her face.

So the Prince and the Heir embark on their mission.

  
  


♞

  


Ali and Dirk touch down on the Land of Paint and Labyrinth, a colorful place with enormous splashes of color – it looks as though it flew from the pages of a Dr. Seuss book. Circuitous paths stretch out all around them, winding through trees incredibly vibrant in hue and incredibly tall, impossible to see over without flying. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory, standing outside of Devon’s front door, stomps his foot on the quasi-wooden deck. _Ugh, I don’t_ want _to wait for r_ _einforcements_ – he can no longer deny himself the pleasure of going in and making this asshole pay. “Devon! Have you been killing more FUCKING DOGS?!” 

  


Meanwhile: 

“Where is he?” Dirk mutters, flying upward again and peering around the woodlands of the land (they seem to have landed in a heavily forested area). Far in the distance, the spiraling tower containing Devon’s Quest Bed rises above the trees, and Dirk sets off for it. 

“Dirk, wait up!” 

Far, far down at the base of the peak is Devon’s house (which, incidentally, could also be described as a mansion without losing an iota of accuracy). What _luck_ it must’ve been for him to get his house placed _there_ in the gamespace by this weirdly whimsical code. Dirk descends as rapidly as he can while still affording Ali the slow necessary to let her follow without difficulty. 

Behind him, Ali smacks into a tree branch. 

Well, without _much_ difficulty. 

“So Devon’s around here?” 

“I assume so; it’s his house.” Dirk’s expression changes to one of worry, and he points, biting his lip. “The front door is down.” _I wonder if some particularly overpowered imps could have gotten to him first…_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon looks up in shock as his door is kicked down. He’s no longer in his god-tier outfit, but, rather, has thrown on a more preppy get-up, complete with a pink bow-tie to accompany his dress shirt and neon shorts. His hands show no sign of hesitation as they continue to type on his desktop; Devon just rolls his eyes at Rory’s question, looking more vaguely inconvenienced by the intrusion than really troubled. “I needed grist.” 

“ You could have just _fucking ASKED_ for some grist! I have plenty!” 

“Really?” Devon says skeptically, pulling away from his desk and standing up straight. “Because we aren’t the best of friends. In reality, if I _had_ asked, would you have said yes?” 

“Yes.” 

“ _Liar_.” 

“ I never lie.” Rory catches a glimpse of Dirk outside, approaching the door, now on the ground.  _ Which is odd, he shouldn’t have left Derse… _

“Devon?” Dirk says, though Ali shoves past him into the house with a “Hey, Rory, why’re you here?” 

“Oh, Dirk!” Devon says, latching onto the opportunity. “I, um… kinda wanted to ask you about something…” 

“You shouldn’t have left Derse,” Rory chastises him. 

Dirk sweeps an ironic, but cursory bow. “Sorry, my liege. Desperate times.” 

_My liege?_ Devon quirks a brow.

“What did you want to ask?” Dirk addresses him, cocking his head and pushing Ali (who struggles against it) back behind him.

“Well,” Devon starts, before pausing and taking a breath. “Back at Navo’s house… Will that actually… become something?” 

Dirk pauses. 

That is _not_ what he expected.

“I mean… It was something for me,” Devon continues. “As I thought you already knew.” 

“I…” Dirk takes a hesitant step forward toward Devon, then stops and glances back at Ali and Rory. “Do you want it to be?” 

“I mean, it was my first _anything_ with _anybody_. It meant a lot. I dunno. I think we should talk about this another time. There are a lot of people here.” 

Rory is looking on with intrigue. _Wish I had some popcorn._

Ali slowly sidesteps Rory, also observing.

“ You sexist, _elitist_ kid…” Dirk mutters, looking Devon up and down. Reevaluating. “Yes, we _should_ talk about this another time.” 

“Aw, come on!” Ali groans. “Discuss it here! This sounds interesting.” 

“Ali,” Devon chuckles, straightening his bow-tie, “I’m pretty sure that of all people you _definitely_ wouldn’t want to hear about it.” 

“ I –  oh,” Ali says,  reddening . “It’s  _ that _ .”

“Probably,” Devon agrees. 

“You guys are in a kismesissitude, right?” Rory jumps in. “Just shut up and _hatesnog_ already! Ali  needs to know how it’s done!” 

“Um,” Devon says, “no.” 

“Actually,” Dirk says, smirking – if he didn’t have an audience, he’d probably lose his nerve – and moves to stand immediately before Devon, “I don’t think I’ve _ever_ been as irritated by anyone but _you_.” He flicks Devon on the forehead. “You champion the use of proper grammar because you’re classist and pretentious as fuck, and don’t even get me _started_ on the gender roles. And it really, really, _really_ shouldn’t make me want to _fuck_ you. But _damn_ if you aren’t hot.” 

“Oh, man, it totally _is_ ,” Rory squeals. “ _Textbook_ kismesissitude!” 

Dirk glances over at Ali, grinning. “Is this what you wanted?” 

“Uh…” She stands there, flustered.

“At least I’m not the trash that has such a limited vocabulary he must use _curse_ words every other sentence,” Devon argues, “nor am I the whiny, self-destructive one… but I can’t lie and say I _don’t_ like those lips of yours.” His face turns red. “And – And don’t say the _f-word_ about our _relationship!_ It’s weird and crass!” 

Dirk moves to stand behind Devon and, without warning, rolls his hips against him. Breathily, “What, you don’t want this?” (Ali squeals and spins around to face the wall.)

“De-von and Di-irk, sitting in a tree!” Rory sings. “F-I-G-H-T-I-N! Um, apostrophe!”

Devon squeaks in surprise, stepping away with the brightest blush you’ve ever seen. “Not in front of them, Dirk!” He gives him a slap on the arm. 

Rory could not possibly be grinning any wider. 

“I suppose,” Dirk says, then swallows, suppressing his own smirk, and seats himself in a nearby armchair. “So,” he says in a rather strained voice, “what were the two of _you_ doing?” 

Devon easily seats himself on Dirk’s lap, eyeing the other two. “Rory is here because I needed grist and I killed a fake puppy.” 

“You’re such an idiot,” Ali says, her voice somewhat muted by the wall that just so happens to be in her face. “Couldn’t you have killed your own imps?” 

Dirk absently rubs against Devon’s crotch, waiting for his reply. 

“Devon killed a dog,” agrees Rory, completely unnecessarily.

“ I killed the one closest to me,” Devon says, ignoring Dirk’s hand –  well,  _ mostly _ ignoring it –  well, ignoring it the best he can –  and praying that nobody else notices. “It only made  _ sense _ . Isn’t this how the game is supposed to be played?”

“You know how attached the Boner King is to his dogs!” Ali points out. 

_I wonder if he really thinks no one is noticing this._ Ali’s still looking away, and Rory seems to be enjoying it – _which is a little weird, but okay, I’m playing along_ –  but Dirk isn’t exactly being _subtle_. “Tell me, you’re not _trying_ to irritate Rory, are you? Because this is a prime method for that.” 

“ I just wanted g – grist,” Devon says, twisting in Dirk’s lap (and grinding against –  oh, goodness ) and getting his, ah,  _ reward _ , as such,  for it . “Is that a crime? Besides, the only one I’d irritate  purposefully  is you.” Devon shifts his weight again – purposefully, this time – and Dirk gives him a quick kiss.

“You’re a fucking dick, Devon,” Rory says. 

“I just wanted grist!” Devon yells, whipping around to face Rory again. “Fucking _sue_ me!” Then he covers his mouth, shocked. 

“Shit,” Dirk mutters, resisting the urge to shove his dick up against Devon in return. “Thought you didn’t like crass language?” 

“Oh, my God, Devon! You _cursed!_ ” Ali says in wonderment, turning from her place in the corner to make sure that it isn’t some strange dream or arcane alternate reality. 

“You could have fucking _asked!_ ” Rory yells back. “And stop _fucking Dirk_ when I’m calling you out for _dogst-degree murder!_ ” 

“Yeah,” Ali agrees, staring, “it’s kind of disturbing.” 

“I – It was an accident, and I needed grist, and there aren’t many ways to get it! And I’m _not_ doing a – a –” (Dirk ruts his boner against Devon’s ass) – “ _anything_ inappropriate with Dirk.” 

“Bullshit!” Ali sings. “Devon, stand on the other side of the room. This is _gross_.” 

Devon sighs and  st alks  away from the Prince  to sit on a faraway chair; Dirk grabs a pillow to, uh,  _ subtly _ hide the,  uh,  _ thing _ in his Dersite pants.

“ Better?” Devon says, raising an eyebrow.

“Much,” Ali agrees, then turns to the Bard. “Rory, can’t you just _let this go?_ This is kind of a bigger argument than it should be.” 

“I will apologize for killing a game construct if you apologize for yelling at me.” 

“You killed Lady Clawklin! She’s not a game construct! She had a _family_!” 

“ And a lot of grist,” Devon adds. 

“ _RORY!_ ” Ali screams. “Let this _fucking go!_ Arguing about this is just going to cause more problems!” 

Rory shoots a bone at Devon, growling, who, in a flash, transforms into light, the bones passing through the invisible energy before he reforms.

“You’re both stubborn little brats.” Ali sits down on the floor.

“I _am_ Light,” Devon reminds them, “physical attacks won’t work. Also, I’m not the one upset about a game construct. I’m just, y’know, _playing the game_.” 

“ But you _knew_ how much the imps mean to this kid!” Ali says, turning on him. 

“My _survival_ ,” Devon says derisively, “is a _little more important_.” 

Rory growls again and throws  another bone. _I am the Destroyer of Souls._ _I will succeed_. Making no effort to actually move, Devon deforms into light, but –  the bones dissipate – he reforms again, scrabbling at his chest and grimacing in pain as he grabs at his pocket and throws a handful of dice, blood oozing from a small cut in his abdomen, a shard of bone yet remaining.

“Dice?” Rory mocks. “Is _this_ supposed to scare me?” 

A pair of holographic knights arise suddenly and swing their swords – Rory throws bones, most bouncing off the armor, one penetrating, and a knight fades away – and then one of the rest of the dice that are still glowing (and have, in fact, been waiting their turn to play) activates.

“ You’re children!” Ali says shrilly.

“This is not childish,” Rory replies grimly, vanishing the sole remaining knight. “This is self-defense.” 

A trio of imps who look an awful lot like Lady Clawklin, the knight, and the doctor appear. 

“Devon, don’t!” Ali pleas, picking up immediately, wisps of hair undone from her bun. 

Rory just stares at the imps, floating upward, toward the ceiling. “This is _horri_ –”

The imps bark an interruption and leap up, but can’t seem to get a hold on Rory, who has flattened himself against the sturdy beams keeping the ceiling in place. The final pair of dice pulse, but then – “Mr. Card!” Devon says. “What the _heck?_ ” 

Having deactivated the dice, Mr. Card floats out the window and away again. 

“What were those gonna do?” Ali wonders. Meanwhile, Rory grabs a bone and pats the head of one of the imps, which tries to bite him. Devon makes a slicing motion, and the dogs disappear. 

“Can you just leave, Rory? Ali can stay, but she’s not the one who _attacked_ me.” 

“No!” Rory resists. “You have committed the unspeakable crime _again!_ ” 

“They were trying to kill you!” 

“ _I_ can’t stay,” Ali says, contributing nothing whatsoever, “I have to bug Rory forever. It’s a game that, uh, only I play. Thanks for the offer, though.” 

“I said,” Devon says, ignoring Ali, “get _out!_ This is _my_ house, not yours!” He reaches into his pocket, to where the dice have returned – Rory sticks his tongue at Devon – Devon throws the dice – 

And Ali yanks Rory toward the door. “This is _stupid_. We’re leaving.”

“ Fine. Only because I can’t stomach the putrid sight of Devon’s face any more.” Rory launches a wayward bone that smashes Devon’s window, and then wrestles free of Ali and flies out through it. 

“I’m not interested in a black relationship with _you!_ ” Devon calls after him. “So lay off the flirting!” _Though_ _I have a_ _feeling_ _that he isn’t actually flirting_. 

“ I have some spare time before I have to go bug him again,” Ali informs them. “So, Devon, what’s with you and Dirk? And _don’t_ dodge the question.” 

“Well, what about you and Rory, huh?” 

Somewhere to the side, Dirk’s phone dings as he wins another round of Solitaire. Fuck yes.

“W – Wait, what? I asked first!” 

“ _You_ sound _flustered_ ,” Devon leers. “There is _obviously_ something going on.” 

“No way! No _way_ would I ever involve myself with the likes of _him_. He pisses me off too much. Have I mentioned I was imprisoned _numerous_ times on Derse by Rory? It was beyond awful!” 

“And yet you still like him?” 

“I _don’t_ like him! I hate him!” 

“But you still think he’s _hot_?” 

“ I never said that! Stop putting words in my mouth, damn it!” 

On the other side of the room, Dirk clears a row on Tetris. 

“Whatever you say,” Devon snickers. “I mean, it seems like your priority now is to _follow him around everywhere_ , so there’s obviously _something._ ” 

“I want to bug the shit out of him,” Ali denies, disproportionate desperation creeping into her voice. “I have a game. See how long I can annoy him before he kills me. Until then, I follow him around, spy on his conversations, it’s, it’s quite fun, really...” She trails off. 

“So, you’re learning about his personal life… Interesting.” 

“Stop trying to turn this into something it’s not!” 

“That’s what you’re trying to do about me and Dirk.” 

“HE WAS GROPING YOU, DEVON! Either there’s something _there_ or you’re both _harlots!_ ” 

“ _ I am not a harlot!  _ We’re just…” Devon trails off and looks down, tugging nervously on the knot of his tie.

“Together?” Ali prods, sensing an opportunity to turn the tables. “Just admit it, Devon. You two are in _love!_ ”

“Not love! I hate his guts!” 

“Then why – _oh_.” 

“ Ali, just _go_. You’ll lose track of Rory.” 

“ No, no,. I’ll just find him on Derse later.” Ali’s face lights up. “You two are in the, uh, kismesis thing! _That’s_ what he was talking about!” 

“I don’t know,” Devon says, his eyes pained. “It’s a long story.” 

“You two hate each other, but you did the _bangy_ thingy.” 

“WE DID NOT!” 

“TOTALLY DID!” 

“Nuh-uh!” 

“Devon, admit it! You two are in the _kisme_ _s_ _situde_ thing for each other!” 

“I don’t know!” he says finally, and then closes his eyes. Devon is breathing hard, his jaw tight. “Maybe. I don’t… I don’t know.” 

“You hate each other,” Ali continues tactlessly, “but you’re in a relationship! It’s just like –”

Devon looks up. “Just like you and Rory?” 

“...no,” she whispers.

“Yes!” 

“N – No! Bullshit!” 

“But, have you considered: ‘Y – Yes’?”

“You know what? Go fuck yourself!” Ali storms off. Outside of Devon’s residence, she kicks off, heading for LOAAM.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

There are those that say that if you just take a step back and have a look at everything that has happened so far, and assume that all the _consequences_ of everything that’s happened were intended, and inquire as to who has _benefited_ from those consequences, then you will know who it was that was behind the machinations so far. 

Bullshit. 

The hole in the ceiling of Navo’s bedroom is apparent to anyone who might look, but that doesn’t mean anyone has looked, or is looking, or is going to look. Only after a long search did Tom find Navo in her bedroom, remaining silent as he stands there and stares at her. _This is the right choice, right?_ Somewhere in the back of his mind, the Dark Gods are whispering… The knife in his hand shines with an exceptionallyfinal gleam. _She will only become an_ obstacle. This is what Tommaso has learned from his time in the **FURTHEST RING**. If Navo Clubb stays, then Tommaso Mambelli does not win the game, and the game has to be won… _Right?_ _SS_ _, reads the blade. And so will read the blame…_ But there is no longer any room for doubt – the Dark Gods have assured him, and Tommaso is used to their familiar susurrations. Now, the dark energy surrounding him focuses, and Tom hovers, unperturbed by light, his skin ashen with Void. Facing away from him, Navo does not see him come for her; Voided, Tommaso mutes her screams. Rather than removing the blade, he allows it to stay inside of her as she falls to the floor; already unconscious, already bleeding out, Navo makes no move to get up. Grimly, Tommaso tosses the gloves he wears into the fire; on the outside, he frowns. _This shouldn’t hurt. This is –_ _This is_ _what’s right._ And with a concentration of Void, it doesn’t have to hurt anymore, and he releases a low breath, and what he’s done doesn’t matter quite so much because the Dark Gods have told him that it was necessary if he wanted to win. 

_Now what?_

  


♞

  


Speeding away from the Land of Paint and Labyrinth is Ali Bradford. Curious, he follows her; once she’s safely inside of her own home, he knocks. 

“Fuck off, Devon!” comes a weak voice.

“Devon?” Tom says bemusedly. 

“Huh?” The door creaks open. “Tom! What’s up?” 

“Nothing, just, uh, thought I might stop by!” He shifts his weight to another foot, rubbing at his neck. “So, I’ve been busy doing quest stuff… Did fuckboy piss you off, or something?” 

“ You don’t even  _ know _ . Say… you,  ah, haven’t been around for a while. Want me to fill you in?” She steps aside;  Tommaso enters .

“Please!” He seats himself on the couch. “A Mage can only take so much, y’know, night and bullshit in a week. So, what happened?” 

“Well, what’s the last, uh, group drama-slash-battle plans you heard about?” 

“Last time we saw each other,” Tom says, casting his memory back, “was when Dirk went to Rory and you blew my cover. Sorry for using you as a human shield, by the way.” 

“Oh, ye – hey, what the fuck, man?” 

“What was I supposed to do? You made it _completely obvious_ that I was there!” 

“It’s not my fault!” Ali reproaches. “Well – whatever. After that, I got locked up in their prison thing. Then, escaped. Then, got locked up. Then, escaped. Then almost _died_. Then, got locked up. I escaped and listened to _very interesting conversations_. A few more cycles of locked-up and escaped, now me and Rory are in some weird relationship? (Don’t tell anyone.) And now… there can only be one Heir in the session.”  She’s glossing over the details, of course, and she doesn’t notice Tommaso’s look of comprehension. “And for some reason they don’t wanna kill _me_ , even though I’m the _easy_ target.” 

“Hey, the killing Devon part makes sense, because fuck Devon.” 

“Yeah, but he’s also a _tough_ opponent. Luck itself is literally on his side.” 

“True, but Hope’s on yours! You literally live by believing in yourself, I – I think, so I really doubt you’re the Heir that will die. I can even help, if you want!” 

“But what good is that to someone who has almost no confidence in themselves? It’s like making a fish a really good painter, but they have no arms to paint. You get what I’m tryin’a say?”

“Yeah, I do. Maybe you can do explore your land some more, complete some… tasks that might help you realize your powers,” Tom says, skirting carefully around any God-related information. “Then you can get up your confidence! I don’t know, all _I_ know is that Devon is probably the most dangerous player so far.” 

“Well, Rory likes to think that _he_ is. He’s really cocky. They’re both pretty powerful, I guess… More powerful than I am. They had a fight, but it wasn’t really spectacular.” 

“Hm. What did Rory do to Dirk, by the way?” 

“What do you mean, ‘ _do_ to him’?” 

“I mean, is he still alive? Did he kill him, or something? Last thing I saw was Dirk talking to him.” 

“ They’re on good terms.” She pauses, trying to figure out how to say it. “Uh,  _ really _ good terms. It kind of concerns me. Dirk’s starting to develop something for Rory, I can tell, and it  _ can’t _ be good. Dirk only wanted to gain his trust, but now it’s  _ escalated. _ ”

Tom’s eye visually twitches. “What happened to Navo, then?” _I assumed that k – that getting Navo out of the way had something to do with breaking Rory’s spirit or_ something, _Rory is calling himself the Black King, Rory wants to stop us from completing the session, but how in the_ hell _did that help if now_ Dirk _is – if now MY Dirk is_ – 

“ Haven’t really heard from Navo in a while,” Ali frowns. “Shit _obviously_ went down between _those_ two.” She stands. “Want to go check on her? See if she wants to chat over tea?” 

“Nah.” _It has to be something about framing Slick, then. I’d thought that was more of a_ bonus _than anything else, but they wouldn’t have_ told _me to do it if it didn’t matter! It’s… for fuck’s sake, it’s_ murder _, I didn’t kill someone for no reason – shit, Ali’s looking at me, I haven’t explained my answer –_ “I’m still a little sore with her.” _Good enough._

“ Oh. Then… I can go see her alone? You can wait here.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Somewhere, somewhen, a coin flips.

  
  


Meanwhile? 

There are those that say that if you just take a step back and have a look at everything that has happened so far, and assume that all the _consequences_ of everything that’s happened were intended, and inquire as to who has _benefited_ from those consequences, then you will know who it was that was behind the machinations so far. 

Bullshit. 

The hole in the ceiling of Navo’s bedroom is apparent to anyone who might look, but that doesn’t mean anyone has looked, or is looking, or is going to look. Only after a long search did Tom find Navo in her bedroom, remaining silent as he stands there and stares at her. _This is the right choice, right?_ Somewhere in the back of his mind, the Dark Gods are whispering… The knife in his hand shines with an exceptionallyfinal gleam. _She will only become an_ obstacle. This is what Tommaso has learned from his time in the **FURTHEST RING**. If Navo Clubb stays, then Tommaso Mambelli does not win the game, and the game has to be won… _Right?_ _SS_ _, reads the blade. And so will read the blame…_ But there is no longer any room for doubt – the Dark Gods have assured him, and Tommaso is used to their familiar susurrations. Now, the dark energy surrounding him focuses, and Tom hovers, unperturbed by light, his skin ashen with Void. 

He can barely hear her breathe out the name. “Tom.” 

_Fuck!_ Tom stabs and throws a wave of Void at her for good measure, which ought to mute her – and it _does_ , but – what is that _light_ around her – he stabs her again for good measure, but she’s _not_ _going down_. _She needs to die before she gets_ _someone_ _’_ _s_ _attention,_ _god damn it_ _!_

But the light snakes around his ankle. Tom looks down at it, makes a split-second decision, and shoves Navo to the ground, memory-wipes as best he can under the circumstances, and stumbles back toward the window. He’s… fuck, he’s weak… His vision starts to dim.

The purveyor of darkness passes out.

  
  


The **Mage** of **Void** is now **dead**!  [10:13AM]

13 14


	18. Amity (Part Two)

Navo gets to her feet, groggy and disoriented. “Tom? Where are we?” 

  
  


The **Mage** of **Void** is now **resurrected**!  [10:14AM]

  
  


Tom follows her to wakefulness, moaning. “I don’t know. I don’t remember anything, last thing was some kind of… dark figure, and then – oh my _God_ , look at your back!” 

Navo twists, and at that moment pain overtakes her. “Fuck!” 

“Wait…” Tom’s hand massages his temple. “Memories are coming back. I was following Slick, and – god – I saw him kill you!”

“How do you _know_ this?” 

“I don’t know, it must have something to do with my classpect… God _damn_ it. I tried to stop him, but I guess your Thief of Life powers got _me_ , too… You might want to turn back around so I can get that thing out of your back.” 

“I’m not _moving_ until god-tier takes over and heals the wounds.” 

“Wounds won’t heal with a fucking _knife_ in them.” 

“Then get it _out_.” 

Tom goes behind her. He’s kind of tempted to try to stab her again, but this strange feeling of trepidation accompanies the urge, as though something inside him knows that he really, _really_ shouldn’t, for… for some reason… Tommaso shakes his head, and a droplet of blood falls unnoticed from his torn lip. At least he saved _himself_. It’s obviously Slick’s knife,  it’s Tom’s testimony against Slick, if it even comes down to that. He readies himself; he _yanks_. 

_They said we can’t win with her!_

_Well, at least I don’t have to – at least no one has to die, though._

Yes, this is for the best. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the surface of Skaia, Rory makes a face. “How come you never give _Derse_ any light, you judgmental asshole?” He appears to be speaking directly to Skaia. 

Rory punches Skaia. 

It does jack shit.

He blows raspberry at it. 

“Fuck you, BLUE ORB!” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the surface of Prospit, a number of carapacians stare up to see Derse’s King cussing out the fucking sky.

What the fuck. 

He turns around, looks down at the Prospitians, and flips them off, as well. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

As Navo screams in pain, Tom manages to excuse himself. And then… _What is Ali doing?_

On Ali’s land, he knocks. 

“Fuck off, Devon!” comes a weak voice. 

(Etcetera.)

“ Wanna go see Navo? I haven’t heard from her lately.” 

“Eh, still kinda iffy around her. Spade Slick tried to kill her, if you can believe that, and she kinda almost killed _me_ , so…” 

“Oh my god! The same thing happened to _me!_ Uh, I think. Did she Thief your life, too?” 

“Is that what happened?!” Tom gasps. _Note to self: put less stock in the plans of Dark Gods that tend to want to use you as an unwitting pawn. It can get you killed._

“ Yeah! Feels weird, doesn’t it?” 

“Yeah, well, at least _something_ good came of it… as soon as Rory finds out Slick tried to kill his queen, Slick will probably be executed or something!” 

“Maybe. I wonder why he did it.” 

“He’s the Dersite archagent, he’s _supposed_ to be killing us… ”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk looks up from his phone. “Hey, where’d they go?” 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Online!** [10:25AM]

  
  


ER: are we all on the same side yet???

  
  


ER \---> SS: where are you??? we havent talked since you and me and rory were all at his cathedral...

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [10:27AM]

  
  


VP: Think so... 

VP: been a while since we used this huh? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Oh. Well, at least this gives us some solid evidence for it.”

“I, for one, am not questioning it. What happened to Dirk, by the way?” 

“He says he’s still trying to gain Rory’s trust, but, trust me, he’s succeeded.” 

  
  


VP: Me and Tom are at my place

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [10:27AM]

  
  


SS \---> ER: i’m at ali’s house

SS \---> ER: a lot of quest stuff to knock out

ER \---> SS: think i can help??? i havent seen you in a while, id like to sometime soon. 

SS \---> ER: nah, but I wouldn’t mind seeing you again

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ Oh, Tom, FYI, Dirk and Rory almost did the  _ sex _ .”

  
  


SS \---> ER: want to meet at

  
  


Tom accidentally hits send as he turns abruptly to Ali. “What.” 

  
  


ER \---> SS: how about skaia? i dont want to meet up on derse, slicks still around.

  
  


Ali looks up. “Yeah. It was when I was snooping.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory is a 100% completely mature King. Abso-lutely.

He gets an idea. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom’s eye does that twitching thing again. “But I thought he was with Navo? Except that _she_ was with Rory, too…” 

  
  


ER \---> SS: tom??? i can stay here at devons if you want, id prefer to be with you though.

  
  


_It’s only bad when Dirk cheats with Tom. When Dirk cheats with_ Rory _, it’s perfectly fine! Don’t worry, Tom,_ _it’s a simple enough explanation –_ _we just hate you!_

“ Relationships are _weird_. I have no idea what Dirk’s doing.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory flies out of sight of the Prospitians, behind their moon, uses his bones to slice holes in his outfit, and flies back to the other side of the Prospitian moon, toward the palace. Pushing open the cathedral doors, Rory begins to cry. 

  
  


SS \---> ER: you’re at devons?

  
  


Meanwhile: 

_No fucking way._ “You have any idea why Dirk’s at Devon’s house?” Tom says, his ears ringing.

  
  


ER \---> me and ali were going to kill devon. i dont know if it went that way though. 

  
  


“Me and him went to go kill Devon, but Rory was already there.” 

“Oh.” Tommaso relaxes. 

  
  


SS \---> ER: ali implies that devon didn’t die

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Falling down on the steps of the cathedral: “Please, I need help! The Dersites – I thought I could trust them – please, please let me see the King and Queen, we have to stop them!” 

  
  


ER \---> SS: i didnt see him when i visited, but all that means is i didnt see his corpse.

  
  


The guards look at each other, shrug, and lead Rory inside the cathedral. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk opens the door and steps inside.

“Oh, hi, Dirk!” Ali says. 

“Hey, guys,” he replies wearily, but his eyes still light up when he sees Tom. “ _Tom_. It’s been… Oh. I guess just two or three days.” 

“ Dirk!” Tom stares at him for a second, and then jumps off the couch and tackle-hugs him as Ali watching. 

“ God,” Dirk says, blinking rapidly, an absolutely  _ stupid _ grin on his face, “I didn’t realize how much I missed you until just now.” Is he blinking back  _ tears? _

“Alrighty, lovebirds,” Ali tries to intervene. “Not in my house.” 

Dirk kisses Tom passionately. God damn. It’s open mouth.

“Dirk, control yourself!” Ali scolds. 

“Ali,” Dirk says, turning to her, suddenly all business. “We have who to deal with – Devon, Slick – anyone else?” 

“Rory and _his_ confidence that he’s a problem, too?”  Ali suggests. “Fancies himself the Black King, remember? Is this calling _anything_ to memory?” 

“Um…” Dirk bites his lip. “I don’t think he’s a problem, Ali, he said he’s willing to complete the game now…” 

“Dirk,” Tommaso jumps in, “I just saw Navo get _murdered_ , I think by Slick, she’s fine now, but it still _really_ affected me…” 

Dirk’s face crumples as he crabs Tom in an uncharacteristically tight hug, holding him close. “God, Tom, I’m so sorry…” 

“He’s really okay with these dogs disappearing?” Ali interjects. “Hard to believe.” 

Dirk lets go of Tom, brushes a strand of hair gently from the latter’s eyes, and gives Ali a shrug. “That’s what he told me.” 

“Huh. Surprising. So, how are we gonna take out Devon?” 

Dirk kisses Tom’s forehead and lays him on the couch. “What exactly went wrong last time?” 

“Rory was there, which tripped us all up.” 

“Rory didn’t exactly keep Devon from being killed.” 

“Well, Devon started pushing you about your _relationship_ with him, that surprised me. Rory being there was unexpected.” 

“None of this is an excuse. Did you just _not_ attack him?” 

“Well, he was on _your_ lap!  Stop acting like you weren’t there!” 

“ _I_ was distracting him!” 

“What, was _I_ supposed to kill him? Really, _me_ , attacking someone. Dirk, who do you think I am?” 

“ Well… Okay, yeah, that’s fair. ”

  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Online!** [10:31AM]

  
  


EH: Where is everyone? 

  
  


“You really expected _me_ to kill _Devon?_ ”

  
  


EH: Oh come on now. Nobody is online???? You all suck. 

  
  


“We talked about this! For, like, I don’t know, two minutes.” 

  
  


ER: okay, once.

  
  


“Even if I did try to kill him, do you think I would have won?!”

“No, no, you’re right.”

  
  


EH: oh you’re truly hilarious

ER: ;)

EH: can you sense the sarcasm? 

EH: because it’s dripping with it 

EH: kinda like your mouth was

ER: i dont drip unless my partner TELLS me to. i swallow. 

EH: fair enough

  
  


“Who the hell,” Ali demands, “are you texting?” 

“Is your phone off?” 

“No, but we were kind of involved in a discussion and I didn’t care to be _rude_. Should I check  anyway?” 

  
  


EH: where did everyone go? 

ER: im with tom and ali.

EH: gonna give me a location or be dumb? 

ER: loaam.

EH: meet you there in a few. Do me a favor and try to look respectable. 

ER: god forbid. 

  
  


“Sorry, Ali,” Dirk sighs. “Devon’s coming over.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The White Royalty gazes down upon the child before them. 

_Their empathy will be their downfall._

The White King, foremost, shows him mercy. 

But he does not return the favor. 

Fleeing the Prospitian Cathedral, Rory dodges easily the spears launched at him by grieving Prospitians. He’s done what was necessary. _So why do I feel guilty?_

In his right hand, the Bard of Heart clutches a white scepter in ringed fingers. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon brushes himself off, packs up his trusty dice, and heads off toward LOAAM.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ What?! Do you wanna try to kill him _here?!_ ” 

Dirk shrugs. “I probably shouldn’t…” He sighs again. _Heavily_. “Why are we trying to kill people anyway? This is so fucking terrible. I mean, this is _literally_ premeditated murder.” 

  
  


EH: where exactly on Loaam, genius? 

ER: alis house, dumbfuck, where else???

EH: I don’t know. Maybe you were causing issues somewhere else? 

  
  


“Ali, do you really think we absolutely _need_ to complete the session?” 

“I don’t know. I mean, there’s more than one He –”

“Hello, Ali. Tommaso. Pleb,” Devon smirks, walking in (without knocking).

“Hi, Devon!” Ali laughs, rather uncomfortably.

“Just couldn’t wait,” Dirk comments drily. 

“Of course not,” Devon agrees. “How could I keep myself away from my favorite piece of trash?” 

Tom just gives him a blank stare.

“Dirk,” Ali says faux-politely, “can you stop inviting your datemates to my house?” 

“Ugh.” This in colder tones, suddenly venomous and hateful. “You truly, utterly _disgust_ me.” Dirk’s mouth isn’t moving, but it’s unmistakably his voice. 

And yet, Dirk scowls. “Not _you_.” 

“ What the hell?” Devon wonders.

“By the way,” Ali adds, “while you’re both here, do you mind indulging me, Dirk, Devon? Just, like – what _are_ you two, exactly?” 

Rose emerges from the beam of the nearest wall. 

“There’s _two_ of you?” Devon says, his features creasing in despair. 

“ It’s IN my HOUSE!” Ali screams.

“They’re sickening, is what they are, Bradford,” Rose spits. “It’s disgusting what he’s doing with _my_ body.” 

“I’m not –” Dirk protests. “That is _such_ a lie.” 

“Who are _you_ exactly?” Devon demands. 

“I’m Rose,” Rose informs him, looking jointly upon Devon and Tom with identical glares of disdain, “the Prince of Time.” 

“Alt. self,” Dirk explains. “And not very helpful.” 

“How are you even in this session?” Devon queries. 

“Time shenanigans.” 

“Also,” Dirk appends, “Blood shenanigans.” 

“Nice to meet you, Rose,” Tom pipes up from the couch. “I guess.” 

“Yes…” Rose says, looking Tom up and down. Something in his face brightens, though not in a friendly way. “Nice to meet you, too, Mambelli. Void in this session, I see.” 

“Uh, thanks. You too.” 

“Wait…” Devon says. “How awesome was _I_ in an alt. Reality?” 

Rose turns to peer at Devon. “Like it matters who you were in an alternate reality. What you’re like here matters.” He swoops down, his face inches away from Devon’s. “And I don’t appreciate the desecration of _my_ body.” 

“It’s not your body!” Dirk insists again. Rose ignores him.

“Wait, what the fuck?” Tom says, his eyes winnowing. 

“ Nothing!” Dirk says, turning to the couch. “It’s nothing!”  _ Damage control! _

“Dirk?” Devon advances threateningly. “You _told_ him?” 

“I didn’t tell him! He – uh –”

“I _made_ ,” says Rose pompously, “an _educated guess_. Unlike _you_ , I’m _not_ an _i_ diot.” 

“Any iteration of Dirk is an idiot.” 

“ What was  _ I _ like in your session?” Ali asks.

“The Heir of Blood,” Rose recalls. “You were very useful.” He actually smiles. “And a good friend…” Dirk’s guide grimaces. “Until I was ripped away from my session.” 

“I’m so sorry to hear,” Ali says politely.

“Weren’t we talking about bodily desecration a moment ago?” Tom says pointedly. “I think we should get back to that.”

“We were indeed, Mambelli.” 

“ I thought you wanted our session to  _ succeed _ , ”  Dirk hisses at Rose, who shrugs.

“Hey,” Devon says defensively, whipping about to face Tom, “It wasn’t like _I_ initiated it, either!” 

“I want the session to succeed as quickly as possible.” Rose chooses this moment, the attention off of him, to flash Dirk a grin, and raises his voice. “So I’ll just let you _all_ know. This session cannot succeed with two Heirs. Either Devon or Ali must die.” 

Tom removes his face from his hands and looks at Devon as Rose floats backward out of the room, wiggling his arms as though imitating a child’s idea of a spooky ghost.

Devon’s face grows grim, and then he’s out the door. “I’m not dying today.” With that, he flies off. 

“Devon, get back here!” Ali yells, running outside. “Let’s be civil about this!” 

“Devon!” Dirk says, following her onto the porch. “Fuck, come back, this isn’t…” Realization dawns and he kicks off. “Neither of you needs to die!” 

High in the sky and out of reach (as of yet) of his friend, Devon yells back doubtfully: “Civil about death?” 

From somewhere on the ground, the phrase _Fuck you_ echoes in Ali’s voice. At the same time, Tommaso reaches Dirk halfway up to Devon, whispering to him: “Are you _sure_ Devon  doesn’t have to die?” 

“It doesn’t matter!” Dirk says, his face alight with excitement that he can barely rein in.“Don’t you see? Rose got programmed by Sara – my _tia_ _–_ he _may as well_ still be alive!” 

“ So,” Devon says from above them, “this means…?” 

“We can program just one of you! _And_ it’d count as progressing the session, it’d be a _Heroic_ death before – you know, before we program the body!” Dirk is jumping around the entire time that he says this. Holy shit. 

Unnoticed behind him, Tommaso frowns. _Aw, man._

“ I’m not dying!” Devon says incredulously. “That shit would hurt!” 

“Not if we kill you _quick!_ ” 

“Plus,” Devon continues, “I can’t do the do with you if I’m a spoopy ghost.” 

“Programming?” Ali says. “Dirk, you sure this would be okay?” 

Dirk’s smile falters as he realizes something else, but he covers it uncharacteristically well. _Rose is helping because, once the session is complete, all_ _the guides_ _will die. Devon has to be the one prototyped._ “ Do you even need to die? I don’t think you do!” 

“Someone needs to die, Dirk,” Tommaso murmurs, rather ominously. 

“For it to count as a death, yeah,” Ali agrees. 

“Nope, nope, nope,” Devon denies them. “Ain’t about that life.” And he deforms into Light.

“You’re an idiot, Bradford,” Rose says, rolling his eyes. “Living things can be prototyped.” 

Ali glares at him. But… _Then why_ _can’t_ I _do this?_

“ I am _not_ becoming a ghost thing,” Devon says. 

“Uh,” Dirk replies, “do you _not_ want near-unlimited knowledge?” 

“That’s why I have Mr. Card! Why can’t Ali do it?” 

“I mean, I _am_ the other Heir,” she contributes. “I _can_ do it.” 

  
  


ER \---> VP: devon has to be the one. 

ER \---> VP: do not acknowledge this message outwardly. 

  
  


“Yes,” Rose says, still muted from somewhere inside the walls. “She’s ready, and willing.” 

  
  


VP \---> ER: Why though? He seems to be really against it... 

  
  


“An Heir of Light _would_ have more benefits from expanded _knowledge_ ,” Tom considers aloud.

  
  


ER \---> VP: well talk later.

  
  


“I am not going to become a guide,” Devon repeats. “Ali said _she_ would.” 

“Hey,” Tom says, his hands up in a placatory gesture, “do we really want to kill Hope? That sounds really shitty and, uh, bad.” 

“Bro,” Dirk joins, “guides have _unconditional immortality_. What do you have? Normal immortality. Conditional. You can still die.” 

“ Peace,” Devon says, and flies off.

Tom growls. “Destiny laid it out for us, _Devon_ is the one that needs to die.” 

“Calm down, Tom,” Dirk says. “He doesn’t need to die, just become a guide.” 

“Yeah, obviously, that’s what I meant.” 

  
  


ER \---> SS: hell die later. trust me. dont acknowledge. 

  
  


Of course, what Tom _actually_ meansis that he wants to murder Devon and have him gone forever, but of course he doesn’t SAY that. 

“Can this wait?” Ali says nervously, following Dirk and Tom back inside. “Or do I have to do the guide thing now? I mean, I can if Devon really, _really_ won’t, but I kind of don’t want to…” 

Dirk groans, face in his hands, sliding down Ali’s wall. “I can never keep my _nerve_ … Listen, whoever becomes a guide will die when we complete the session, that’s _why_ Rose wants us to win. He’d rather die than keep on existing indefinitely.” 

“Oh,” Tom says in false concern.

“That sounds horrible,” Ali agrees, in real concern.

“Please,” Dirk scoffs. “Do _you_ want more Devon in our lives?” 

“Devon’s been nothing but nice to me since the beginning, Dirk.” 

“I don’t know,” Tom says, slinging an arm around Dirk, who smiles. “If Devon _has_ to disappear forever, then I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do.” 

“I don’t want him to die. And _I_ don’t want to die. Why does one of us have to die?!” 

“Ali,” Dirk says. “Everyone on our Earth is dead. Completing the session means we can create a _new_ world, repopulate our universe.” 

“But why do Devon or I have to die? Just because our personalities are similar means we have the same god-tier class? It’s bullshit!” 

“Yes,” Dirk says quietly, “it is. But it’s the rules.” 

Ali sits down on the living room floor. “Theoretically, _I_ could be programmed, right?” 

“Unacceptable,” Dirk says, shaking his head. “You’d die.” 

“But I _could_.” 

“ Ali,” Tom interjects, “please don’t. You’re, like, one of the few people I really care about. Let me be frank, here: Devon is NOT on that list.” 

“Incidentally,” Rose says, leaning against her wall and looking like an average disdainful teenager (missing bottom half notwithstanding), “are you willing to?” 

“If Devon doesn’t want to, at all, then perhaps.” 

“Rose,” Tom appeals, “don’t you agree that killing off our Hope player would be bad?” 

“Killing knowledge is worse!” Ali says stubbornly. 

“But are you willing? Absolutely willing?” Rose begins to circle around her, looking for all the world like a jungle cat circling prey. “Devon does not want to. You’re the only one left, yes?” 

“I guess.” 

“Look,” Tom says hastily, “let’s wait a week before we make this decision, okay?” 

“Hold up. I just thought of something,” Ali says. “I could be programmed, leading Devon to believe he is in the clear, then Devon could be killed when he’s off guard?” 

Rose raises an eyebrow. “Why? You’d still die.” 

“Yeah.” She curls up on the floor. “Stupid idea. Sorry.” 

“Just accept your duty,” Rose urges. “Complete the session. Don’t you want your friends to succeed?” 

“Of course I do!” 

“Good.” Rose places a hand in the square of Ali’s back. In the same moment, Dirk turns and slashes at him, and there’s a brief moment of surprise before a Kernelsprite floats where Rose was.

“I  
was getting tired of him,” Dirk says calmly. 

8 10


	19. Somnambulance

#  Saturday, November 14, 2015: Part Three

“What just happened?” she says. 

“I separated him from his sprite,” Dirk says, swallowing. In answer to Ali’s shell-shocked stare, he adds, “Same trick I used with Satansprite. He… I think he’s dead. At least, he’s not _here_ anymore.” 

“ Shouldn’t he have figured that  one out,  if he wanted to die so badly ? ”  Tom says skeptically.

“I don’t think he was much one for figuring out anything that wouldn’t be somehow orchestrated by himself. Kind of a dick, Tom.” 

“Oh, god,” Ali says, finding it necessary to cover her mouth for a moment as she considers this. “Okay.” 

“Is that a bad thing?” Tom points out. 

“Uh,” says Ali, “it’s what he wanted, I think.” 

Dirk purses his lips. “He certainly didn’t _desire_ to live. I suppose his sense of duty was stronger than mine.” 

“Huh,” Tom comments. “So, Devon’s going to die now?” 

“Or me…” Ali suggests again. 

“Ali could still be prototyped with my third-time-new Kernelsprite,” Dirk says quietly. “But I’d rather she weren’t.” 

“I think we should wait and think about this before we kill anyone,” Tom counsels. 

“I,” Ali says, “would put up less of a fight than Devon.” 

Dirk examines Tom intently. “What exactly happened with Navo?” 

“What do you mean?” He pauses. “Like, when Slick attacked her?” 

“I guess.” Dirk shakes himself. “Sorry, don’t know why I asked. You shouldn’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” 

“Yeah,” Tom agrees uneasily, “I don’t want to relive that right now…” 

“Sorry, love,” Dirk whispers, giving him a chaste kiss on the forehead.

“Ah-ah-ah! Not in my house!” 

Tom’s eyes begin to tear up. “ _No one_ should be stabbed like that, with their back turned.” _Why, Dirk? Navo, Devon, Rory – are you going to sleep with Ali, the thirteen-year-old, next?_

“ Fuck, Tom, I’m sorry you had to see that, beautiful.” Is Dirk petting his chest? What the hell is this.

“Dirk,” Ali reprimands. “Sit on the other side of the room. Now.” 

Dirk glares at Ali, immobile.

“Calm down, Ali,” Tom reproaches her. “He’s just comforting me.” 

“Would _you_ rather try comforting him?” Dirk suggests. “I’m doing the best I can.” 

“Fine, just… get off each other, please.” 

  
  


EH: I am not dying

VP: It’s still under debate... 

  
  


Very, very quickly, Dirk plants a kiss on Tom’s lips, but then takes a step to the side, so they aren’t touching anymore.

  
  


EH: you’d be cool as a floaty thing

VP: Really? I suppose so. 

SS: rose died.

EH: weird

  
  


“Can we at least agree on an alliance?” Dirk says. “Us three.” 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **private messaging** **enthusiasticHeretic [EH]**! [12:46PM]

  


SS \---> EH: rose is gone so were going to kill ali. meet me at derses core

  
  


“Of course,” Tommaso agrees. 

  
  


EH \---> SS: I totally trust a drunk/high guy that doesn’t like me. 10/10

SS \---> EH: first of all I was sober since I entered the game

SS \---> EH: second of all I was only acting like I hated you

SS \---> EH: dirk wants to keep ali alive, but we both know that cant happen

EH \---> SS: I’m too busy alchemizing defenses. You can beat her on your own.

  
  


“Right,” Dirk says. “I don’t…” His mouth screws up. “Should we really kill Devon?” He looks at Ali. “I’m not letting you die. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary…” 

  
  


SS \---> EH: I cant, all I can do is turn invisible

SS \---> EH: I need your help because you’re much stronger than ill ever be

EH \---> SS: stab her in the back. 

  
  


“Can we all just acknowledge the fact that I would go down with hardly any resistance?”

  
  


SS \---> EH: I tried. 

SS \---> EH: she didn’t even notice. 

SS \---> EH: she also almost accidently killed me on more than one occasion

SS \---> EH: also the dark gods want us to kill her...they’re what got me this far

SS \---> EH: in fact they’re what got this session this far

SS \---> EH: if you don’t believe me, ask them

EH \---> SS: oh yes. I can definitely talk to the “dark gods”

SS \---> EH: aren’t you a derse dreamer

  
  


Dirk goes to the kitchen to make some tea, ignoring Ali. 

  
  


EH \---> SS: I am but the Dark Gods haven’t talked to me

SS \---> EH: devon please im scared

SS \---> EH: I have no idea what alis planning

  
  


“Dirk, can you grab me a coke out of the fridge?” 

Dirk grabs Ali a coke out of the fridge, but sits on top of her counter, thinking, instead of giving it over.

  
  


SS \---> EH: youre more predictable

SS \---> EH: can we please ally

EH \---> SS: send me proof you’re on my side

  
  


Tom frowns. 

  
  


SS \---> EH: one sec

  
  


Tom gets up and excuses himself, spinning some excuse about ensuring Navo’s safety, and flies off to Derse. Within the labyrinthine cathedral, Tommaso manages to snap a picture of the knife originally in her spine; hopefully the news of _that_ evidence has spread around by now, whatever Navo must be doing at the moment, so Rory either has heard about it or will in short order. He wraps the slim blade in a napkin, snaps another pic (against a blank wall, so that it’s not as obvious where he is) –

  
  


SS \---> EH: FILE TRANSFER: stabs2.png

EH \---> SS: wtf is this? 

SS \---> EH: this is what I stabbed ali with

EH \---> SS: wouldn’t Ali be injured then? 

EH \---> SS: weakened? 

SS \---> EH: that’s what I thought too

SS \---> EH: but fucking heir of hope powers I guess

EH \---> SS: hmmm... 

EH \---> SS: I’ll think about it.

  
  


ER \---> DS: were already allies, right?

  
  


Goddamn Void player bullshit. Dirk’d be pissed if he knew about this… _Good thing he doesn’t, then._

  
  


EH \---> SS: why don’t you just ally with Dirk?

SS \---> EH: because he wants ali to live

EH \---> SS: where is Ali now? 

SS \---> EH: her house with dirk

EH \---> SS: then why would we go to derse? 

SS \---> EH: because if we planned at ALI’S house then that would kinda ruin the point of PLANNING

SS \---> EH: lol I thought you were the light player

SS \---> EH: jkjk

EH \---> SS: whatever. I don’t think we could take Dirk on though. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Where’s my fucking soda, ho?” 

  
  


SS \---> EH: he wont kill us

  
  


Brought back to reality, Dirk steps out of the kitchen and hands her a soda.

“Finally.” 

He proceeds to lie down on the floor and contemplate his life choices. 

  
  


SS \---> EH: I doubt hell even have enough time to react

EH \---> SS: fine. I’ll visit derse in a few. I have to do stuff for a sec

SS \---> EH: half past eleven tonight

EH \---> SS: fine.

  
  


“I could just jump into that sprite right now and stop all this nonsense,” Ali comments. “It’s right over there.” 

“Fuck off,” Dirk suggests, rolling over so that he’s face down, his voice muffled in the shag carpet.

She stands up and examines the Kernelsprite. “Look at the light,” she says. “It’s rather pretty, really.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The Mage looks skyward, and calls to the Dark Gods.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Your carpet is _really_ dirty.” 

“Have you ever taken the time to look at this, Dirk?” 

“Look at what?” 

“The Kernelsprite. Come and look at this.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Hello?” He pauses, knots of dread dropping in his stomach. “Why have you all gone silent?” He steels himself. “Am I going to die?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Wuphw’ulf? Kwahkuac? Maowmeu, are you there?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk gets up, pawing at his tongue disgustedly. “What do you want?” 

“Look at how pretty this is,” she prompts him, gesturing to the sprite. “It’s shining.” 

“Do not throw yourself into that.” 

“What? I was just _looking_ at it…” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Don’t you need to tell me something? Is the silence supposed to prepare me?” He carefully keeps the abruptly rising panic from his voice, _calm down, there’s no reason_ , “Please, show me what I need to see!” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

She leans in. “Look at that pattern…” 

“No,” Dirk says, snatching her collar and pulling her away. “No, no, no.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

But the Dark Gods say nothing.

They show him nothing. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Hey! What gives?” 

“You were getting too close.” 

  


Meanwhile: 

That’s quite literal, by the way. He can’t see anything. 

Then, all at once, the whispers flood in his ears; it’s too much for any human to process the information, and by the time that he can see again, everything around him is tinged with darkness.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“No, I wasn’t. I was just _looking_.” 

“ Sometimes I wish I could _attach_ things as well as dividing them.” 

Ali stands up from the couch, staring at the Kernelsprite. “Wouldn’t it feel _weird_ to be prototyped?” 

Dirk’s face goes abstract as he considers: “I wonder what would happen if I divided a place from the flow of time…” 

“Please don’t!” 

  


Meanwhile: 

Tommaso summons the Void, concentrating it in one hand, and then banishes it away. How would it look to show up surrounding by an aura of brackish magic? _The others don’t know that dark is not the same thing as evil_. Even so, h e feels… inspired. Normally, the speech of the Dark Gods was unintelligible anytime he tried to repeat it, but in fact he couldn’t _stop_ talking. Tommaso grins, his teeth shiny and white, as he sifts through his newfound powers. All the knowledge of the Noble Circle at hand… 

The Mage descends into the depths of Derse, his wide grin never faltering.

  
  


The **Mage** of **Void** is now **Grimdark**!  [1:06PM]

  
  


But damn if he’s ever going to let anyone else figure that out. 

  


Meanwhile: 

“It’s almost comedic how easily I could just stop all this arguing by simply _tripping_. Don’t you think?” 

Dirk looks at her, and then exits the room, returning in approximately 30 seconds with a length of rope. Calmly, he seizes Ali by the arm and drags her toward the dining room table.

“ What the fuck? Let me go, man!” 

Dirk rolls his eyes. Luckily – or as might be expected, really – he is stronger than the slight girl, and it’s no problem for him to tie one hand to the leg of the table. “Now you can’t touch the Kernelsprite.” 

“Leave me alone, damn it!” Ali slips a finger from the other hand underneath the folds of the knot – 

“Right.” Dirk bats at her other hand and attempts to tie the rope around _both_ her hands, grunting with effort. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Now would be a good time to go over exactly what Tom prepared a while ago. 

First, he gathered a few strife specibi, allocating one to bladekind and one to dicekind and one to cardkind (in case he got ahold of any of Devon’s weaponry in the future). Next, he – well.

  
  


EH \---> ER: You’re gonna kill me aren’t you? 

ER \---> EH: to be perfectly honest??? i dont really want to. 

ER \---> EH: i dont want anyone to die. and i dont want to have a MURDER on my hands...

EH \---> ER: Tommaso said he’s gonna kill Ali. Do you think he’s lying to me? 

  
  


Perhaps it might be prudent to go over what he didn’t prepare. And one of the things that he _didn’t_ do was consider that Devon might _tell_ Dirk what Tommaso told _him_ before the battle.

  
  


ER \---> EH: he what???

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk feels suddenly like he might be sick. His insides are twisting, and suddenly the blood that pumps in his temples is _pounding_ … “Ali.” 

“What?” she calls from one of the dining room chairs. 

  
  


EH \---> ER: exactly what I said numb nuts

  
  


“We need to go. Devon says _Tom_ told him he was going to try and kill you.” Dirk cuts the rope with a flick of a finger. “I was thinking Skaia.” 

“I’ll follow you. I’m not really good at this kind of stuff.” 

  
  


ER \---> EH: im taking her someplace safe, then. im not telling you where, im not stupid. 

EH \---> ER: He’s going to Derse so watch out

ER \---> EH: thanks for the info. 

EH \---> ER: maybe you can handle him

ER \---> EH: id rather not have to.

  
  


Dirk grabs her arm. “You good?” 

Ali swallows. It’s surprisingly difficult; her throat, dry… “Yeah, I guess.” 

  
  


EH \---> ER: Well I’m going. If I die I am haunting the shit out of you

  
  


Meanwhile: 

And off goes Devon, _zoom_ ing toward Derse… Something about it is rather ominous, but he can’t put his finger on it. _Perhaps, y’know, the murder plans…_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

About a minute later, Dirk and Ali stand atop the _second_ highest Dersite tower on Skaia. It wouldn’t do to make their location obvious by being on the _absolute_ highest.

“What’s the point of this, then?” Ali says wearily, gesturing to the tower beneath them. 

“Devon says Tom’s going to try to kill you. I hope to hide you.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Somewhere in the Dersite core, Tom throws back his head and sings garbled laughter. _I’ve got an idea! Let’s keep hidden from absolutely everyone but us the_ one thing _that the_ seer of secrets _needs to know._ “ Well done, Dirk.” He swipes a hand over the Orb of Obfuscation and frowns. He’s trying to monitor the Light Heir’s progress, but… _N_ _o Devon-sight?_ _I suppose it makes sense… He, Ali, Dirk,_ and _myself all knew he would be here._ _An Orb of Obfuscation wouldn’t tell me anything that just_ anyone _could find out._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ What? Tom wouldn’t…” Ali stops herself, removes her hand from Dirk’s, and goes to the nearest wall, staring at the battlefield beyond. A few pointed words to a nearby Dersite soldier gets Dirk some benzodiazepines, a bottle of wine, and chambers to sleep in. 

“He wouldn’t,” Dirk says, once they’re both inside the first level down of the tower that actually has a ceiling, “would he?” 

“You trusted Devon over Tom? What the hell is the matter with you?” 

Dirk’s face sours as he, almost absently, removes the top third of a battlement. “Whatever. I’m staying here anyway ‘til I have more info about everyone’s plans.” 

“Okay,” Ali says. 

  


♞

  


Hours have passed. 

“I left my sweatshirt at Derse. I’ll be quick.” 

Dirk nods. 

Meanwhile: 

Devon Hart alights on the Dersite surface. _Now, where was I meeting Mambelli?_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The Dersite Cathedral comes into view. 

Damn Ali and her sweatshirts.

Unbeknownst to either of them, Devon stands before the entrance below.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon looks up.

“ Tommaso?” 

The figure is too far to gauge; Devon just shakes his head in annoyance. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali sighs heavily and dramatically. _Devon? Really?_ She floats down beside him anyway, though. What can she say? She’s a masochist. 

Devon grimaces. “ _I’m_ not going in the Kernelsprite.” 

“I want to.” 

“Then do it.” 

“I can’t.” 

“Why?” 

“ Dirk and Tom…” Ali shakes her head. “For some reason they don’t wanna let me just  _ end _ these disputes. It’s getting irritating.”

“Well, if we both go now, they can’t stop us…” he points out. “Wait, _Tom_ stopped you? He said he wanted to _off_ you –” he gestures about himself – “I mean, that’s why I’m _here_.” 

Ali shakes her head more vigorously, as though if she denies it hard enough, Devon will let it go, will tell her he was just joking. “I don’t believe that.” 

“ I can show you the chatlogs,” he offers. 

“Show me.” 

He shows her the chatlogs. 

Ali gulps. “This is fake.”

“:-?”

“You have to have made these up.” 

“Ali,” Devon says, keeping his voice patient, “have I intentionally lied to you at all this entire session?” 

“No.” 

“I wouldn’t fake logs, especially for this purpose.” 

“If Tom wanted to kill me,” she points out, her volume rising, “he could have done it at my _house!_ ” 

“That’s true…” Devon frowns. “And fishy. Ali, are you lying to me?” 

“Why would I lie when my life’s on the line?” 

“Wouldn’t that be the best time to lie?” he says, advancing on her, his finger squarely poking her collarbone. “If you aren’t lying, why would you come here by yourself? I mean… if you aren’t strong enough to beat Tommaso, shouldn’t you be _running_ or with _Dirk?_ ” 

  
  


SS \---> EH: you coming or what? 

  
  


Ali looks down at the phone buzzing in her hand, hoping to god that Devon doesn’t notice. “I forgot my sweatshirt – Dirk’s waiting for me, back on – uh – somewhere –”

“Who’s pestering me?” 

“It’s Tom.” Ali looks down at it again, then back up at Devon, her eyes wide. “He’s looking for you…” 

Devon nods, snatching the phone from her and appraising her. “If you aren’t lying,” he says finally, “then come with me.” 

“O – Okay.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk takes another gulp of wine, directly from the bottle this time. I mean, who’s gonna know, right?

He spits it out.

It’s red.

Damn Derse and its emo color scheme, this shit is gross. 

  
  


EH \---> SS: Where are you? 

SS \---> EH: I told you in the core of derse

EH \---> SS: alright. Be there in a minute.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Ali, we’re going to the core of that satellite of Derse.” He takes off – 

“I’m scared!” she says. “I don’t want to go.” 

He turns the fuck around. “Well,” he points out, “according to our deal, that means you’re a liar, and I’ll have to kill you.” 

Ali’s jaw drops. “I – I’m coming, then.” 

Devon smiles widely, seizing her wrist, and she follows him.

  
  


♞

  
  


VP \---> ER: DIRK IM BEING FORCED TO GO MEET WITH TOM AND DEVON I NEES ASSISTANCE

  
  


Within minutes, they’re in the core.

And yet, something is off.

“Tommaso,” Devon calls, “I’m here…” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

By the time Devon and Ali have located and flown a tunnel to the Dersite core, Dirk has stumbled to his feet, dropping the wine bottle, which shatters. “Sh… fuck.” By this time, unfortunately, there’s nothing left in it. The implications being that he’s drunk almost an _entire bottle_ of wine. _And red wine, too… Someone’_ _s_ _gotta fuckin’ – *hic* – pay._

He should really, _really_ just stay here and walk it off.

I mean, a _bottle._

He kicks off instead. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom stands on the sacrificial slab of Void, facing away from the pair. He is oddly silent. 

“ T – Tom?” Ali says uncertainly.

  
  


ER \---> VP: whe rear eyou

ER \---> VP: /?????

  
  


In a single, fluid motion, Tommaso turns rapidly and throws something in Devon’s direction. A flash of light from an unknowable location illuminates it for half a second before Devon yelps and ducks away from a full-size sword, Ali dodging the opposite direction.

  
  


VP \---> ER: DERSE CORE COME QUICKLY

  
  


Tommaso growls and flicks, and this time Devon is prepared, morphing into light as an invisible dagger passes through the place his abdomen would otherwise be. 

“ What the  _ hell _ , Mambelli?!” Devon yells.

“I didn’t think you’d show up, Ali. _Leave_.” 

“ Devon, may I l – leave?” Ali’s voice is shaky.

“Ali,” Devon commands, “get help.” 

“Well,” comes a high, wavering voice from the mouth of the tunnel, “f – fuck me.” 

“Dirk!” 

“HE’S FUCKING CRAZY AND GLOWING!” Devon screams. 

“I do happen… I happen to recall another instance like – like this,” Dirk stutters. “Of course, _that_ – that one ended in us G-T’ing.” 

Devon reaches into his pocket and removes a handful of dice. “I ask you again, Mambelli: what the _hell?_ ” 

“C’m’on,” Dirk invites, and Ali reaches the mouth with him, just as – 

With a snap of Tommaso’s fingers, Dirk and Ali disappear from sight, the lone tunnel leading directly to the core suddenly concealed by a door slamming shut.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali backs up into the wall of the tunnel, staring at Dirk. “What’s wrong with Tom?” 

“Why do I ha – have to get… uh, get… involved in this bulls – bullshit?” 

“Yo – You’re _drunk_.” 

“ How unf… How unfortunate.”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory Diamond touches down on his planet. Dogs are waiting, solemn. One delivers the news of an attempted assassination. 

Slick is gonna fucking die. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

It isn’t clear, since he’s currently made up of photons, but Devon glares hard at Tommaso. _I’ve fought here once already. This is_ my _turf._ “ Well, then… game on,” he says, deforming again immediately upon taking the time to say it, barely quick enough to dodge another invisible knife that Tommaso is using to subtly inform the Heir of Light that he will not wait for finished quips. Devon throws a couple dice, and these activate at once: appearing around him are needles in the sky, all aimed at the Italian, a summoning circle that bears Mr. Card and a large, holographic cat. 

“I don’t like these odds,” Tommaso announces. “Lights out.” Devon’s Light-form is shrouded in shadow, his physical body reforming; simultaneously, Tommaso disappears into darkness, the last thing to go his bright, enormous smile.

Devon curses darkly. _That was one of my best tricks…_ In the air somewhere to his right, Mr. Card is being _absolutely_ _useless_ , but the bobcat is low, stalking through the air. Devon nods as he understands. _He might be invisible, but Tommaso still carries a scent. He’s only unknowable as far as he’s decided to be, so as long as I throw things at him that he_ _hasn’t thought of_ … _like scent… i_ _t_ _should be easy_. Above them both, Devon’s needles hang in the air, unmoving. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ We should go.” 

“Nah,” Dirk slurs. “What’f they need us?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The enormous feline pounces and Tom barely escapes its claws, long, dark scratches puncturing the skin from his elbow to his wrist – he splays his fingers, and the hologram disappears, lost to darkness. “You know, I always hated you, Devon. You always treated me like a _fool_ and shit when I had a _real_ _drug problem_.  God, you insensitive _prick_!” 

Devon zeroes in on Tommaso’s position – but it’s too late, just as the man himself appears, pointing a machine gun at Devon’s head.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali covers her head at the sudden gunshots and screams. 

Dirk just laughs. “Thought I was the only one with a gun.”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The die-summoned shield rolls above him, leaving Devon unperforated. “I was looking out for my best interests! I didn’t need a _druggie_ on my team! Especially one that goes around ruining relationships and kissing my…” Devon lets out a roar of frustration, and needles shower down. “My _whatever_ -he-is!” 

“I’m not y – … yours,” a tired, crackly voice says from behind the tunnel door. Devon ignores it. 

“Kissed your _whatever?_ ” Tom says, arching an eyebrow and sweeping his hand upward, needles dissolving into shadow. “I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure that he was mine _FIRST_ , you _massive_ _dickbag!_ ” A spiral of sharpened shadow spears at Devon. “You _fucked_ my _boyfriend!_ ” 

“Tom’s p – pretty cute,” Dirk observes, muted through the door Tom has manifested.

“See? He agrees.”

“He’s like –” Dirk explains further – “his f – face. It’s… It’s cute.” 

One spear gashes Devon’s side, and he groans in pain, but doesn’t scream. Screaming would be ungentlemanly. Mr. Card just watches as Devon weaves and dodges the remainder of Tom’s assault. “I didn’t fuck him! He just… put his mouth on my… You know what? Last time I checked, he was _Navo’s_ first!” Devon peers down at the slab below him, where a pair of his dice have fallen, not of his own accord. Grimacing, he descends and kicks them into a roll; a pair of trolls appear and charge Tommaso.

“I know, but that’s _different!_ ” Shadows pull at Tom’s hand, a black sword forming around it like a mitt. “And remember what happened when I did that?” A tusk smacks his head against the far wall, and he moans. “Everyone – Everyone _died!_ ” The trolls are dispatched. “Why didn’t that happen when _you_ fucked him?!” With surprising speed, he recovers, although he’s bleeding fast and greatly. “Or when he fucked _Rory?!_ ” The sword catches Devon, pulling a leg out from under him, red staining the slab below him. “It’s not fair!” 

  


Meanwhile: 

“Life ain’t – Life ain’t fair. That’s, like… fucking. Grammar.” 

“I could’ve just taken the sprite!” Ali bemoans. “This wouldn’t have happened!” 

“Well, that’s one… that’s a way of looking at it, y’know.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Another slash, and Devon isn’t quite as prepared, a cut – though non-lethal – manifesting across his chest. “It’s not my fault you’re a _homewrecker_ who _got_ your punishment you deserved! It’s not my fault Dirk wanted to do things with me. And,” and here his voice wavers for less than a second, “what do you mean, he did stuff with _Rory?_ ” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Drunkenly, Dirk mumbles the words to _Heartbreaker_ by Marina Diamondis. He’s almost getting the tune right, even. On his Android, Dirk sets a reminder to reward himself with a cookie at the soonest opportunity. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“At least I’m not an entitled, prideful, holier-than-thou, and just _generally unlikeable shit-eater._ ” With that, Tommaso punches him in the gut, and Devon doubles over. 

Devon screams in abject ire. _How dare he?_ Around them, dice glow, Devon’s pockets coming alight with energy. “ _You!_ Disgusting _filth!_ ” With a burst of light, Tommaso is thrown back.

“Come at me, you little twerp!” Tommaso’s outline flashes, and again he vanishes from sight, and Devon grunts as his ears explode with pain and he becomes suddenly unable to hear.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“This is so unnecessary!” Ali yells, trying to make herself heard through the nonexistent cracks in Tommaso’s door, tears dotting her face. “You have to stop…” 

  


Meanwhile: 

“Fucking make me, Ali! You have no _idea_ how long I’ve been waiting for this. Devon’s fucking going DOWN.” 

“Tom!” comes a muffled, panicked voice, “you _don’t have_ to kill him!” 

“I don’t… I don’t think we sh – should do this,” agrees a much less energetic voice. 

Devon throws a set of dice, and they emanate bright, yellow-orange beams, hot and pulsing, nearly catching Tom and leaving burn marks on the wall.

And then Tom’s left hand is gone. 

He stares up at Devon, not quite believing. “ _Fuck_. I… I’m going to _kill_ him for that! KARMA!” The room goes pitch-black, and the Void takes Devon’s hand too. 

  
  


**derseSovereign [DS]** is now **Online!**

  
  


DS: I’m going to fucking kill Slick. 

VP: RORY PLEASE COME HELP ME

DS: What’s going on?

VP: TOM AND DEVON ARE FIGHTING AT DERSES CORE

VP: THEYRE GONNA KILL EACH OTHER YOU GOTTA STOM THEM!!!

DS: Fine.

  
  


It’s gone. Poof. He’s just… handless. And there’s no bleeding, but… “Fuck,” Devon spits, the word low and ringing in his ears. He drops to his knees on the slab, and, finally, Mr. Card intervenes. A large prism made up of spades surrounds Devon’s body (which he takes the time to note, somewhere in the back of his head, is geometrically impossible), and then, with a mischievous look from Devon’s sprite, both disappear from sight.

“Tom,” Ali says in relief as the door keeping them out - and keeping Devon in - fades away. Then she blinks, taking in the scene. 

  
  


VP: WAIT

VP: DEVONS GONE??

  
  


“ You  _ killed _ him,” she says in disbelief, the sight suddenly distant. She’s not sure she can feel her legs.

Tom is glowering. “This is the most _anti-climactic end_ to an epic battle _ever_. Are you FUCKING kidding me?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Everything hurts.

He can barely move and, _fuck_ , he’s _screaming._

On the Land of Paint and Labyrinth, Mr. Card puts Devon out of his misery. 

  
  


The **Heir** of **Light** is now **resurrected**!  [11:53PM]

  
  


ER \---> DS: rory.. ttheres liae a thing coing on?? goda damn

  
  


DS: Nobody murders anyone on my fucking planet. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Why’d you _kill_ him?” Ali demands, her feet strong on solid ground, not willing to hover out into the floating uncertainty of god-tier flight. 

“I… I didn’t?” 

“Bullshit!” 

  
  


DS: A bit pre-occupied. 

  
  


**derseSovereign [DS]** is now **Offline!**

  
  


Tom returns to the tunnel, and Ali flops on top of him in what could be considered by the more open-minded a _hug_. He pushes her away. “A little too late. Thanks for actually caring, though.” 

“ No fuckin’ – way,” Dirk whines. “No hugs without me, you fucks.” 

“Dirk I swear to god don’t touch me,” Tom snaps, all in one breath. “At least not yet.” 

“I thought you l – liked it?” Dirk says. He doesn’t even sound disturbed, just confused, head cocked to one angle, slumped against the violet tunnel wall. 

“Tom,” Ali says after a pause, “can I ask you a question?” 

“What,” he says, flat.

“Why did you tell Devon you were gonna kill me?” 

“Because,” Tom says, “he wouldn’t have come here if I told him I was going to kill HIM.” 

“I don’t understand _why_ we’re trying to _kill_ him!” 

“Two things,” Tommaso says. “Two things that I made clear in my fight, which is funny, since I’m a _fucking_ Void player. One: two Heirs, and I want him to be the one who dies, because he’s a prick. Two: he _fucked_ my – my _almost boyfriend!_ ” 

Dirk considers this. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Somewhere, somewhen, a clock strikes 12. 

14 14


	20. A Guy in a Chiffon Skirt

#  Sunday, November 15, 2015: Part One

Outside of the tunnel, Ali gives only a cursory goodbye to Tom, and he doesn't notice. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In the core, Dirk sits glumly on his sacrificial slab. 

  
  


EH: Hello!!! It’s Mr. Card (oh so poorly named). Why would you try to kill my friend

EH: ()()

(.___.)

  


Meanwhile: 

"Ali?" Shit. _Where the hell..._

  


SS: FUCK OFF FOR A SECOND I NEED TO PROTECT MY FRIEND FROM DYING

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Of course, just because it was cursory does not mean that it was uninteresting or uninformative. 

  
  


EH: Oh it’s not that bad!!

EH: ()()

( ^_^ )

SS: BUT I WANT AN HEIR ALIVE DAMN IT

EH: Devon is alive

EH: ()()

( -,- )

SS: yeah but I hate him

EH: I noticed. He totally would’ve won if he was... What do the kids say? On fleek? 

EH: ()()

(~_~)

SS: jesus you’re worse at being a normal human being than devon

EH: How rude!!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

_Soon_ , Ali thinks, _all this fighting will be over._

  
  


VP: COME GET ME TOM!!!

  


Meanwhile: 

Oh, _no._

  


SS: ALI I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD

  
  


Meanwhile: 

She’s nearly there. 

  
  


SS: its like platonic hate too like pure murdery hate

EH: ew. Murder... My penmate got murdered by a raven!

  
  


She touches down at her door. 

Ali swallows, readying herself. 

  
  


SS: do you even know how to hold a conversation?

EH: ()()

(x_x)

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A keening wail comes from Devon. He is really… wow, that’s _really_ hardcore sobbing. Jesus fuck. 

  
  


SS: AND ALI DON’T YOU DO IT YOUNG LADY

VP: WATCH ME

VP: YOU GUYS CAN STOP FIGHTING

EH: do it do it do it

EH: ()()

~(0_0)

SS: don’t listen to prick mcgee over there

EH: WE CAN BE SPRITE BUDDIES

EH: or... What were you calling it? Guide buddies!

EH: ()()

(^_^)>

  
  


Meanwhile: 

She examines the pale, reddish orb. 

  
  


EH: You’re an angry one... The Horrorterrors get you? 

EH: (.-.)

()()

SS: excuse me?

VP: Tom, I have another question. 

SS: shoot. 

VP: Do you think it would be bad if I were to program myself? 

SS: I mean I wouldn’t RECOMMEND IT

EH: lmao. You’re gonna become a hentai monster

EH: ()()

<(^_^)>

SS: mr card how the fuck do you even know what that means

EH: you learn a lot as a Guide!

EH: ()()

(-*-)

ER: abou henetai/?????

VP: I’m gonna hop in brb lol

ER: dobnt fuckcing do it man

VP: No ones giving me any decent reasons why not

SS: keep in mind that removing yourself from the session might remove all hope from our session>

VP: Removing knowledge is worse!

SS: not really

EH: True... Well it’s unlikely you’ll lose because she does this... But it’ll be harder

EH: ()()

(-_-)

SS: especially we me

SS: I know shit through ignorance

SS: is this not a perfect scenario

EH: you’ll lose knowledge and luck or hope.

EH: ()()

( ._. ) <\--- tubby bunny

ER: i asborned a the knowwldgeof satanspsite when i killed it!!!!

SS: yeah, what dirk said

SS: whatever he said

SS: dirk are you talking about your guide?

EH: that asshole

EH: ()()

(.V.) <\--- mad bunny

VP: Hope is useless

SS: ali do you hear yourself

EH: Ali just do hopey stuff and save the session. Easy peezy

EH: ()()

(^_^)

SS: “oh if you want to win you don’t need the symbol that represents possibility of success I mean wow” 

VP: Hope has gotten me nowhere!

VP: Just shut up. You guys won’t stop fighting until Devon’s killed and that’s not gonna happen soon. 

SS: and you programming yourself isn’t going to stop me from killing devon

SS: this is pointless and bad for our session

EH: Plus! You don’t want Devon in a Guide because he’ll totes fuse with me!

EH: ()()

(;P )

SS: mr card youre a genius

EH: He’ll get magyks!

EH: ()()

( ^_^ )

SS: so

SS: I have magic anyway

SS: HE has magic anyway

EH: yeah but I mean strong majyks. That was kiddy stuff

EH: ()()

(-_- )

SS: i am the Mage of Void

SS: i have all the arcane, eldritch power of the Dark Gods on my side

SS: and i am asking you politely to STEP THE FUCK DOWN

VP: I’m too tired for this shit. 

SS: and dirk can just destroy him? 

SS: w/e doesnt matter

EH: but do you think you got alllllllll the majyks and Dirk is easy mode man! Just use emotion majyks

EH: ()()

(^_^)

EH: thats what I would do if I was gonna fight Dirk

VP: I could just hop in right now. I wouldn’t be tired. 

SS: ali please don’t do it

ER: vpp thasi a sbadid ea

SS: ^

SS: I bet youll be MORE tired

VP: I don’t care right now.

SS: ali think straight for a second

EH: I thought the Mage was the drunk one usually

EH: ()()

(-__-)

SS: FOR THE LAST FUCKING TIME I WAS NEVER DRUNK

SS: AND STOP MOCKING ME FOR MY SUBSTANCE ABUSE PROBLEMS

EH: High? 

EH: ()()

(x_0)

VP: Think straight how

ER: alii sno how bofeten is adesciiosn made fform not carignag ood one

SS: as in don’t make a selfish decision that just fucks us all over

EH: not mocking. Just stating. And to be fair I am a bunny. Idk that much about getting high or drunk or wasted or whatever!

EH: ()()

(.-.)

SS: you don’t deserve death

VP: I can’t understand you Dirk

ER: ali. ifs youcare about us then dont do this

EH: Ali. 

EH: Ali

VP: WHAT

EH: make a decision

EH: because this decision

EH: changes everything about the game

ER: tshis is your test ali. and ify ou program yourself i willkill everyone eels on this team. 

ER: so choose yrou sconsequences

SS: if you program yourself everyone will probably die regardless

EH: even my Guide knowledge is clouded so make a decision

EH: you know I’m serious because I’m not using the cute bunny faces!

VP: why is this such a big deal?!

SS: BECAUSE YOU ARE THE MOST IMPORTANT PLAYER ON THIS TEAM RIGHT NOW

EH: because

EH: if you go in

EH: you do Guide stuff and we lose a Hope player

VP: Important? 

EH: but you don’t even have Hope power as is? 

EH: but if you don’t Guide up

EH: it’ll probably be Devon

EH: And he’ll make a Guide^2

EH: And murder ppl

SS: you are literally the only thing holding us together

VP: I’m not doing jack shit. I’m irrelevant

SS: no you arent

EH: /: so is your decision no decision? 

SS: ali you are the only one who managed to kill me

ER: Wecare about you

VP: This is all bullshit. All of it. 

EH: well I know one cares about you!

EH: ones feelings are a lil misguided

SS: you are the reason why im killing devon and not everyone

ER: ali thaink aboutall the dtimes ive almst gone offthe feep end

ER: and youcstopped me feom trning into mhy dark side

ER: youarepart of the aseason ewere still alie

SS: you and dirk are the ones who actually cared about my substance abuse problem

EH: hehehe. Drunks

SS: you have the potential to save us all

SS: your hope powers can protect us from anything

VP: I can’t do anything. There’s no hope. 

SS: then why don’t you earn it, ali? 

EH: she has potential but nooooo confidence

EH: she is actually the most powerful in the session

ER: you dnot haveti always believe ia yourself ali. WE Blieve in you

EH: too bad she can’t use her power

SS: she can!

VP: I’m not the most powerful at all. 

EH: actually

EH: you have the highest potential of anyone here

EH: im a Sprite

EH: well a Guide

EH: I would konw

SS: ali listen to me

SS: you can do anything you want

SS: you just have to learn how

SS: well teach you how

SS: well stand behind you

EH: but if you become a Guide

EH: you get immediate power

EH: like me (;

VP: My thingy isn’t even offensive damnit! I can’t use my shit on my own!

SS: if she becomes a guide shell disappear forever after the game

SS: is that what you want, mr card? 

SS: you monster

EH: :/ you see. 

EH: the game

EH: doesn’t have to end

EH: you can just live your days here

EH: and populate your worlds

SS: it does

EH: life will continue

SS: ali don’t let him trick you

EH: it’s fact

EH: I am a truthful Guide

SS: well its irrelevant

VP: Mr. Card? Can you send Devon over here? I’d like to talk to him one on one. 

EH: he’s kinda screaming

SS: think about the new universe we can create

EH: you can come here though

SS: think about the lives that will live

EH: he’s freaking out

SS: were so close ali

EH: if you try anything

EH: I’ll kill you

SS: we dont need to be session-stuck

EH: :/

VP: He has to come here. 

EH: idk

EH: can’t rly do that

EH: not in this state

  
  


VP \---> SS: I’m going to throw him in the Sprite

SS \---> VP: :0!!!

  
  


VP: Please. Just find a way for Devon to come here. I really need to show him something. 

SS: imagine the lives that will live in the new world!

EH: maybe in a couple days? 

VP: This. Instant.

SS: pls dont throw yourself in,ali : (

EH: so impatient for a girl who was so whiney a second a go

EH: patience

VP: Have you even met me? 

EH: I know all. I am the smartest game construct

SS: no matter what devon tells you DONT JUMP IN

  
  


SS \---> VP: you can do it ali ; )

  
  


VP: I’ll chose what I do on my own, tom!

  
  


SS \---> VP: a little sad that I wont be the one doing it but at least the twerp dies

  
  


VP: Think about it, Mr. Card

SS: ali please

VP: Devon has been nothing but nice to me the entire time. Why would I do anything to him?

EH: Hehehehhehehehehehehehehhehehehe

EH: HEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEH

SS: ok mr card youre kinda scaring me

EH: hehehehehehhehehehhehehehehehehe

EH: you’re all so foolish

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **Offline!** [12:17AM]

  
  


VP: This is bad. 

SS: not a good sign

VP: He’s planning something I know it. 

  
  


SS \---> VP: can I at least battle him one last time? 

VP \---> SS: no. 

SS \---> VP: fair enough

  
  


VP: I’m gonna have to fly to his land and see what’s wrong. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Offline!** [12:18AM]

  
  


Ali backs away from the Kernelsprite and, with only a backward glance, exits stage left (out the front door). 

  
  


SS: devon

SS: when you get on after you meet with ali

SS: come back for round 2

SS: I promise no more limb deleting ; )

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Offline!** [12:19AM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Hopefully, he won’t be _able_ to get on after meeting with Ali, because he’ll be _fucking dead_. 

Or, y'know, a guide, which is BASICALLY the same thing. 

Tom considers his missing arm. 

At least it's cauterized. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Land of Paint and Labyrinth,

Devon Pique’s house has been painted to match a suit of cards in each wing. Mr. Card has been doing quite a bit of renovating. 

A doorbell sounds, and a diamond painted nearby glows. 

  
  


ER: im aoing to alsi house

  
  


“Fancy.” 

A beam of light illuminates Ali’s eye. “Ow, fuck! That’s bright!” Other than that, nothing happens.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On his way out of the core, Tom easily catches Dirk. “Hey, where are you going?” 

“I, uh… LO… LOAAM. You wanna come -- come with?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

That is, until the clubs symbol painted beneath her feet begins to glow.

“I just want to talk to him,” Ali calls, her eyes darting, but the club shockwave rumbling through the ground sends her crashing to her hands and knees, her feet yanked out from under her. “LAY OFF!” 

  


Meanwhile: 

“Dirk,” Tom says reasonably, laying a warm arm around Dirk, “you’re going to die with your drunk flying.” 

“Co \-- Come on, Mam… Tom. I wanna stop Ali!” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ _Can I just talk to Devon?!_ ” 

Another projection is emitted by the diamond: Mr. Card. “Mr. Pique is busy right now. Leave a message.” It sticks its tongue out for good measure as she struggles to her feet, then vanishes. 

“Let me in!” 

Another shockwave knocks her down again, and this time she’s sure she can hear the distinct sound of china shattering. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“It’s okay, Ali isn’t going to do it. She’s luring Devon to her home to shove him into her Kernelsprite. Come on,” he says, winking, “aren’t you glad to see me?” 

Dirk actually giggles at that, which is weird coming from him. Lazily downward he floats in spirals around Tom, ending up lying on the Dersite ground. “I mean,” he slurs, “as long as _you’re_ here…” He snaps up into an almost-standing position, his toes only nominally brushing the ground. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ You know  _ what? _ ”  Ali flies up to the first window above the door and, hefting a rather small rock she found nearby,  smashes it into the window with all her might .

It’s reinforced Plexiglass, though. 

The rock bounces off of the window, sirens sound, and the heart emblems on the walls slide out, pointed bottoms rotating until each is directed at Ali. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom pulls Dirk down and into a kiss. Dirk gives a happy, contented moan, one hand entwined in Tom’s hair, the other moving under his shirt to feel the heat of his back. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali kicks one heart out of place, swooping in through the tiny hole this leaves, only bleeding a little. Inside the hall -- the spades wing, it appears -- Mr. Card’s hologram appears. “Pick one!” On each door, the sign of a differing card suit flickers into being, including a few she's never seen before. _What the hell is a giraffe doing her_ _e?_

Ali purses her lips, put out with all this theming, and taps the spaded door. A flurry of cards blows out at her. (She picks one up. They appear to be completely normal and harmless cards. What kind of trap is this?) 

“ I don’t have time for this!”

The spaded door fades.

“Try again!” 

“Hearts.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom is almost panting as he breaks the kiss, only to pull Dirk closer into him. Dirk smirks against him as the two recline in levitation as only god-tiers can, Tommaso on top, kissing passionately, needily… 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The door bursts into fucking flames. 

What the fuck. 

“Why can’t you just let me talk to Devon?!” 

“Try again!” 

She smacks the diamond door.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk grabs at Tom, grinding up against him and moaning happily. “Fuck, you’re so good,” he breathes, before pressing his lips against Tom’s again.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Behind this door is nothing more than a hall with more doors.

“Fucking bullshit,” Ali comments wearily, but enters the corridor. 

A much less polite-looking Card reappears. “Shoo!” 

“Let me talk to Devon!” She shoves him, and a spaded prism similar to the one that teleported Devon not half an hour ago surrounds Ali.

“Not now.” 

“I just need to talk!” 

“Later. Goodbye!”

And then they’re back on LOAAM.

“I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom lifts up Dirk’s shirt, breaking the kiss for, hopefully, the last time and baring the other boy’s torso. “You like _yandere_ Tom better, don’t you?” 

“You,” Dirk mumbles, his eyes almost closed in bliss, “you are _so_ much better than Devon or Rory were…” He giggles again. “You know they were both _virgins?_ ” 

Tom’s seductive lip-licking turns grim. “Excuse me.” 

“Did I s -- say something wrong, Tom? You’re, like… _really_ hot.” Dirk peers at him, and suddenly seems to grasp the gravity of the situation, his eyes widening. “Oh, fuck! I’m sorry…” He tries awkwardly to cover this by making out sloppily with Tom’s neck. 

“No, no, the mood is kind of ruined now. How abou --” 

Beside them, Mr. Card appears. “Hehe. Hentai monster.” Before anyone can react, he teleports away.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Tom sighs. “I’m not a hentai monster, you _fuck_ _ing –_ god dam n it.” 

“Hey, I’m sorry, man,” Dirk says, idly rubbing Tom’s back. “You’re like… really cute, like you’re the -- you’re the best there is, is what I was trying to say -\- ”

“Dirk,” Tom sighs, “I’m sorry, but let’s pick this up again later after I kill off the rest of my romantic competition." 

_Fuck this Sburban bullshit._ _It's too late now, I'm going to the Dark side. H_ _ail_ _Tom, the Dark Lord_ _._

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **Online!** [12:25AM]

  
  


VP: Tom come talk me out of it. 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [12:25AM]

  
  


SS: I almsot fucked dirk

VP: TOM PLEASE YOU CAN TALK ABOUT THIS HERE IM ACTUALLY GOING TO THROW MYSELF INTO THIS KERNELSPRITE IF YOU DONT COME TALK ME OUT OF IT NOW

SS: dont konw what to say so bye

  
  


In place of Mr. Card ten seconds ago, a large, heart-shaped screen appears, displaying several moments of intimacy between Dirk and Rory and Dirk and Devon.

“Oh, that’s not…” Dirk winces. “That’s not right.”

  
  


SS \---> VP: EXCEPT NOT REALLY HI

VP \---> SS: GET OVER HERE

SS \---> VP: ALRIGHT

  
  


EH: oh I’m back. Mr. Card is busy

VP: Devon you need to come to my place

VP: I need to talk to you

EH: I briefly had one hand. No

VP: Fine. We can talk later. 

  
  


“ Dirk I have to go see you later good _ bye _ ,” Tom says, all in one exhalation and pointedly  _ not _ looking at the screen, and flies off into the night.

“Like the pretty scene!” Mr. Card comments, abruptly beside Dirk.

“HOLY SHIT!” 

“I know, startling, right? Try not to break me, by the way. I have to talk to you.” He clucks sympathetically, his guidish tail snaking around Dirk. “Poor buddy.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom’s feet touch the cracked glass of Ali’s land. “Ali?” he says, heading for the door. “You didn’t program yourself, right?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Dirk," Card sighs, "you are a confused child.” 

“A little,” he groans. “But… you know. I _like_ Tom. I like him a lot…” He frowns. “That whole thing with Devon feels so _wrong_.” 

“ Oh, of course,” Mr. Card says, “Of course you do, but do you like _Tom_ , or do you like his body? Because I already know the answer to Devon. I mean, he’s all body. It’s pretty cute! He raised _me_ since he was seven, and he’s grown up _quite_ a bit. Some parts of him more than others…” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Ali?” he says, and she quickly un-hugs herself. “What are you doing?” He hugs her in substitution.

“I’m gonna do it man,” she laughs.

“Ali, _shush…_ ” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Yeah, but… he’s _Tom_. I mean, I’ve had a crush on him for,  like, a year…” 

“But then you were with Navo,” Card reminds him. “Like a _fool_. You don’t want love. You want attention, don’t you?” 

  


Meanwhile: 

“ We’re going to train your powers,” Tom says decisively, “and _murder_ Devon, together. With my god powers and your… uh, other god powers, Devon’s going fucking _down_.” 

Ali squirms out of his grasp, staring into his eyes. “Just let me do it.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ I…” Dirk’s eyebrows knit together. “But… that can’t be right, it’s _just_ Tom, I don’t feel that way about anyone else!” 

“Oh, I know,” Card reassures him, his tail tight and warm around him, brushing a strand of hair lovingly out of Dirk’s face. “You like Tom, but, ah, you like _attention_ more. That’s why you let yourself kiss Navo; that’s why you sucked Devon’s _dick_ ; that’s why you offered yourself to Rory.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Long-suffering, Tommaso sighs. “You know, if you really wanted to jump in, you would have been programmed already.” 

“No! Devon will put up a fight and I won’t!” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“He… that can’t be right. It’s not…” A full-body shudder runs through Dirk. It’s cold on Derse, and his Dersite uniform isn’t helping. His god-tier clothes would help, if they were here; as it is, Card’s tail tightens around him, warm, protective, reassuring. “But I thought I liked _all_ of them.” 

“You _can’t_ like all of them,” Card laughs. “You liked attention and strung them along. Think of how _broken_ they’ll be when they hear you ‘love’ somebody else.” 

  


Meanwhile: 

“Ali, you’re fighting yourself.” Bullshit, Tom’s pulling this from his ass without thought, but it’s probably true anyway. “Your Heir of Hope abilities allow you to do anything if you really want it to happen. The first thing we have to do is practice your abilities on things you fully want, then work on getting you to truly want other things.” 

Ali stays uncharacteristically silent, though she’s silent in a rather surly way, which is utterly and entirely characteristic.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ No,” Dirk whispers, horrified. “I’m sorry, I didn’t…  _ no _ , I didn’t think of it like that. They can’t… You don’t think that’s how they’ll see it?”

“Didn’t you see how snuggly Devon got with you today? _I_ certainly did. It’ll _crush_ him when you break it off. Navo killed somebody because you didn’t love her; Rory is just as capricious. Come _on_ , Dirk. You _didn’t know?_ ” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“...so,” he prompts, “what do you _really_ want?” 

TBH, she’s actually just spacing out. 

“Do you want to live? Do you want to win? Hello?” 

“What?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“I \--” Dirk’s breath catches. “No… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I don’t… I don’t mean to _hurt_ anyone!” he cries, his voice desperate. He turns to Card, tears in his eyes. “Can I _fix_ that? How do I… What should I do?” 

“Well, I can definitely guide you so that it can be fixed, but you have to do me a favor first.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Did you hear what I said about wanting stuff?” 

“No.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Wh \--” _HIC_ \-- “what is it?” 

Mr. Card pats Dirk’s back softly, and Dirk closes his eyes. “Well, first, you have to be a _good_ boy. No sex. No nothing, for now. I’ll give you instructions later.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Okay,” Tom says, “so, basically, Heirs of Hope can probably do whatever they subconsciously want. So we need to figure out what you want, hone in on that, then figure out how to make you subconsciously want other things.” 

“Sounds reasonable.” 

“Good. So, what do you want?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A look of confusion passes over his face briefly. “This’ll help -- you know --” he actually chokes, finishing the last part in a whisper -- “not _break_ anyone?” 

“Dirk?” 

“Y – Yes?” 

Card leans down to face him, displaying long, flappy ears. One possesses a heart; the other, spades. “Choose one.” 

Dirk recoils uneasily (or recoils as much as he can in Card’s grip). “What do they mean?” He may be drunk, but not enough to forget that in the fantasy books, a mysterious choice _always_ has consequences.

“It’s a choice,” Mr. Card insists. “Pick.” 

Dirk hiccups, then, glancing apprehensively at the sprite, reaches out to touch the spade. Immediately, the pair of them find themselves before Devon’s door. “So,” says Mr. Card, “go in and break his heart? Or hide?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory is fuckin done with this fresh bullshit. Slick has been nowhere to be found and now his nap is being interrupted because some stupid imp messenger thought he might want to know the outcome of the big Devon v. Tom battle. _Wow, more assholes fighting. Who knew? Amazing! Wake me up and tell me_ everything _, why don't you..._

  
  


**derseSovereign [DS]** is now **Online!** [12:43AM]

  
  


DS: Aight who got murdered? 

SS: sadly not devon

DS: Goddamn it. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“There’s no oth -- no other option?” 

“ I mean,” Card says, “it’s  _ his _ heart, or the one you were just sleeping with. And  _ his _ heart is strong.

  
  


SS: I mean I guess no one died

  
  


“But I don’t… It’s not… it’s not _right_ to break _anyone’s_ heart…” 

  
  


DS: Today I broke my murder virginity. 

DS: So I guess someone died.

SS: finally

  
  


“Oh, but it’ll happen eventually. If you do it this way, it’ll be faster, and less painful. 

  
  


DS: I feel guilty. 

SS: why

DS: I don’t know. 

DS: By the way none of you should head to Skaia. 

DS: Just a warning. 

SS: who did you kill

DS: Oh, you’ll see.

  
  


Dirk wavers unsteadily where he’s standing -- he almost falls over, actually – but he stumbles forward eventually, then stares at his fist for a few seconds like he’s forgotten its function. 

_Then_ he knocks. 

(Mr. Card, not expecting Devon to get up, opens the door and pushes Dirk gently inside.) On the bed, looking completely pitiful, is Devon. Looking up at Dirk, he gives a little smile. “Hi, Dirk. Um, I’m not in any condition to fight right now, so… so can we just not? Can we just be civil?" 

  
  


DS: Also, do any of you, by any chance, know how to work ectobiology machines? 

DS: Because I am up to my ass in babies and I want them gone. 

SS: huh

SS: well idk what to say to that

DS: Nevermind, the good doctor has just handed me a manual.

  
  


“I wasn’t going to fight you…” Dirk is in actual emotional pain, seeing him like this. “Devon, you look terrible. Is this from Tom? I -- I’m sorry… I could’ve stopped him somehow, I’m sure of it.” 

Devon cringes and looks away. “It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’m glad you’re, uh, here, though… I could use a friend, after that.” 

  
  


SS: just leave them alone I guess... they aren’t hurting anyone

DS: I’m gonna put the babies on the meteors

SS: great

DS: Blast them the FUCK outta my face. 

SS: go for it

DS: One of them is crying and annoying. 

DS: They’re all annoying, but I hate this one more. 

DS: I’m gonna call him “Devon”.

SS: d’awwww

SS: named after the one true piss pants

DS: Indeed. 

  
  


“Sorry…” Dirk apologizes again, looking over Devon with concern. “I can \-- I can be your friend if you need it… Do you want me to get you anything while I’m here?” 

  
  


SS: who knows

SS: maybe if that baby is lucky enough, it will BECOME devon and get murdered by me in the future

DS: Ew. 

  
  


“There’s food in the fridge. Can you cook or anything?” 

“Um, I can try.” 

“Thank you…” Devon’s eyes follow Dirk’s form as he lopes across the room. “Are you okay?” he says abruptly, catching him before he leaves the room. 

“What do you mean?” Dirk looks as though he’s been caught sacrificing virgins, or something. “Where’s your kitchen?” 

  
  


DS: There’s a bunch of blonde fuckers.

DS: The hair color variety is awfully limited.

DS: One of them is a ginger, so that one has to be the devil.

  
  


“You look off…” Devon pats the sheets beside him. “Come. Sit by me. You don’t need to cook; Mr. Card can.” 

Mr. Card heads off to the kitchen. 

  
  


DS: I’m gonna launch that one first. 

DS: ...

SS: nice logic

DS: Farewell, babies

SS: rip

SS: except dont die

DS: Looks like Team Baby is blasting off again!

SS: rihp (rest in heavenly peace), where you land

SS: brings a tear to my eye :,)

  
  


“Th \-- Thank you.” A sob escapes Dirk, and he buries his face in his hands. “I -- I’m sorry -- I wasn’t thinking – I, didn’t –” he’s _really_ having trouble speaking between these desperate breaths -- “you, and Rory, and Tom, and, and, I didn’t _think_ , I didn’t think, you might, be _hurt!_ I don’t -- want -- to _hurt_ anyone!” 

  
  


DS: Well.

DS: I was watching them through these weird screens. 

DS: And they disappeared through some portals. 

DS: Huh. 

DS: Well, Dr. Woofclaw says it's time for some more meteors that'll destroy Skaia and doom our session. 

SS: wait rory

  
  


Devon, with no idea what’s going on, quirks an eyebrow and wraps Dirk in a hug. “What’s the matter?” 

  
  


DS: C’mon and slam, and Skaia's in a jam. 

SS: are you sure that’s necessary

DS: Welcome to the Space Jam

SS: we can still win

DS: Yeah but I don’t wanna. 

SS: you can expand your dog empire to the new universe

DS: ...true, but this is sorta my job? 

DS: I killed the Prospit Royalty, so. And I started the Reckoning, kinda. 

DS: I mean, I haven't yet, but I will have. 

DS: There's this Prospitian with me, it's complicated. It's in their proverbs and shit. 

DS: It's predetermined. 

SS: is it though

SS: youre a player

SS: the hero of heart

DS: Well, I’m also the Black King. 

  
  


“I’m so -- I’m so selfish, Devon, I wanted, you and, Tom, _and_ Rory… F – For attention, right? And I, surely it, it must have, _hurt_ you for, me to do that, I wasn’t, I wasn’t, _thinking_ , but I didn’t, didn’t _want_ to hurt, anyone but I must have right?” 

Devon frowns, still confused. _You were with…_ What the hell? He lets go of Dirk, his touch slipping away. “Did you… did you… What did you _do_ with them?!” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

_Damn it, now I have to go after_ Rory _to create the new universe? Seriously, is there anyone who_ isn't _against recreating the Earth? I mean, it's kind of our fault it got destroyed in the first place._

  
  


SS: fair enough

DS: So, yeah. 

DS: The rest of these meteors aren’t launching for some reason. 

DS: The ones without babies on them. 

DS: The Prospitian says that when I start the Reckoning, the meteors are supposed to launch. The doc agrees. 

SS: hmph

  


Meanwhile: 

Rory smacks his scepter against an ectobiological control panel. 

Nothing happens. 

  


DS: Is this stick defective or something?

DS: Oh well. 

SS: awkward

DS: I’m gonna kill Slick.

SS: what why

DS: Uh, cause he tried to kill Navo?!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“I was -- I was, _supposed_ , to be earn, earning Rory’s, his _trust_ , by being his _knight_ , but of course – knowing, knowing me, I had to make something _out_ of it… Like he was, supposed to be _above_ me or, or something, I gave him, _power_ over me, it’s not… it wasn’t okay!” Dirk exclaims. “It wasn’t _right!_ And Tom… You _heard_ Tom, he says, he says I’m his _boyfriend_ , but he… I… I… thought I loved him? But obvi -- obviously not, if I’m, doing all this…” 

  
  


SS: no way! why would your ally do that to your poor wife? 

DS: I have no idea. 

DS: Must just be a bad egg. 

SS: probably

DS: Also, I have something to tell you, Tommaso. 

SS: Yes? 

  
  


DS \---> SS: This is about Dirk. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom senses sudden sweat on his back. _Oh_. 

  
  


SS \---> DS: what about him

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon’s expression is one of frustration. _You told me I was special_. “Get out,” he says, almost calmly. Dirk’s face of shock, betrayal, it doesn’t touch him, and Devon could trill with the thrill. He’s fighting back tears, but he won’t cry, not in front of… _him_. 

  
  


DS \---> SS: We didn’t do anything. Together, that is. 

SS \---> DS: oh, thanks for telling me that!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

_I mean, seriously, that didn't save you if you're still trying to kill us all._ Tom feels a twinge of guilt, but the Void of the Dark Gods washes it away. _It's better that Ali and Dirk and I survive than that_ none _survive. I still don't know how Navo would prevent the session from being realized..._ But that _is_ what the Dark Gods told him, and when have they ever been wrong? 

_Everything happens for a reason._

  
  


DS \---> SS: I mean, we kind of did, but, uh...

SS \---> DS: ...ok then

DS \---> SS: I mean, he’s really hot. Like, really hot. 

SS \---> DS: amen to dirks hotness

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk stares at him in some kind of shock for a second, but he stands up -- his hands are shaking -- somewhere in the real world his mouth is saying _I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry_ over and over again but he manages to stumble out the door and into the whimsical trees of Devon’s planet surrounding his home. 

His hands are shaking. 

Why won’t they _stop shaking?_

Mr. Card pops into position. “That wasn’t too hard, now, was it?” 

A long cut appears down the side of Dirk’s arm, high up where his shoulder was, cutting into the Dersite uniform that Rory gave him only a few days ago. “I -- I guess,” Dirk hiccups. “It \-- I don’t – it was bad, I, he sounded so hurt…”

  
  


SS \---> DS: but... 

SS \---> DS: do you really truly want to doom the session

DS \---> SS: I mean, you don’t have to fight me.

DS \---> SS: Just give up. It’s easy. 

  
  


A tuft of Dirk’s hair falls from the left side of his scalp, unnoticed by him. “I think I – I hurt him really bad…” 

  
  


SS \---> DS: fine I wont fight you

SS \---> DS: youre too innocent

DS \---> SS: Thank you!

SS \---> DS: truce? 

DS \---> SS: Truce. 

  
  


“Oh, he’ll be fine,” Mr. Card assures him, his tail wrapping itself around Dirk again, lifting him off the ground, hugging him tight. “Don’t worry. He’ll be sad for a while, but he’ll get better. Let me help you.” 

“Okay,” Dirk nods, sniffling lamely. “You -- You know best – I guess –”

"Better than you," Card agrees cheerfully.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

With a good half-hour’s nap, Rory's first destination is LOPAL. _I hate Devon – and Slick knows I hate Devon - so, most likely, he would hide where Devon is. Right?_ _Yeah, that totally makes sense._ “SLICK! Come out, come out, wherever you are, fucker!”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Of course I do,” Mr. Card murmurs, patting Dirk’s head. “Rory next?” 

“Okay,” Dirk replies in a whisper. “Do you think I should?” 

“Of course. Don’t I know best?” He peers up into the sky. “And it looks like Rory has come to us.” 

Far in the sky, planetary slurs echo.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Startled by the sudden appearance of Dirk, Rory jumps, yelping, and then clears his throat. 

“R \-- Rory,” Dirk says. He’s not crying anymore at this point; he rubs at his eyes with his sleeve to try to hide the residue of tears. “I, um… I have something to say to you, I guess.” 

“Good, uh, morning, Dirk,” Rory says. “So sorry for the, ah, noise. It was just a, uh… cough.” 

“So, uh…” Dirk swallows. “I guess you know that I’m kind of… you know, a fucking _slut_.” He almost spits the word, remembering a few pointed sentences hissed from Rose just earlier that day. “I don’t… We can’t do things like that, I guess, not without hurting people, so, um, I can’t really be your - your knight anymore.” 

“...alright,” Rory says carefully. “You ain’t a slut, though, people who slutshame are assholes – not that I can talk, being an asshole myself -- but I ain’t gonna force you to keep bein’ anything you don’t _wanna_ be.” He pauses. “Wanna help me kill Slick?” 

Before he can respond, Card is tugging Dirk away from Rory. “We must go now.” 

“Message me about it!” Dirk calls back to Rory, but lets himself be pulled. “What is it?” 

“You must give them time to digest it. He hid it well, but couldn’t you see the betrayal in his eyes? Next will be Navo, but first, let’s do something else.” 

“I \--” Dirk glances back at Rory, his eyes suddenly full of worry \- “I thought he was okay with it?” 

“HEY!” comes Rory’s shout. “Who the FUCK is the RABBIT?!” 

Glaring at Rory, Mr. Card directs his attention to the Bard. “We are _speaking_.  Anyway..." Shoving a bottle of beer into Dirk’s hands, Card sighs. "So naive. You have much to learn. First, though, you need to calm down.” 

“I heard my name!” 

“It’s not important,” Dirk offers, giving him a kind of twisted and not entirely genuine grin (it’s really, _really_ wide, and it doesn’t look right on him). “I think I need to go, but I’m glad we talked.” 

“A parting gift,” Card says in oily tones, tossing Rory a playing card before teleporting away with Dirk.

Rory looks at the card. 

It appears to portray Dirk in the center of a harem of adoring Tommasos and Devons. 

Rory shrugs, tucks it in his codpiece, and goes back to shouting at a celestial body. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

For some reason, though, they reform in front of, again, Devon’s house.

“Why are we here again?” Dirk asks, his voice low and tired.

“Dirk,” Card reprimands. “Why don’t you calm yourself? Drink the pain away. Devon’s fast asleep – courtesy of _me_ –  so you can get into the fridge _easily_.” 

Dirk tries to look down at a bottle already in his hand, but it’s gone, now, somehow.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory swoops down to Devon’s house, ready to get started on whatever hot drama is going down now. 

“...it hurts,” he can hear Dirk, who hasn’t yet seen Rory, say as he enters range. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ It really hurts,” Dirk repeats.  _ You shouldn’t you shouldn’t you shouldn’t _ …

“ _ You _ again?” Card says, glaring up at Rory. “Dirk, just go in. It won’t hurt anymore.

_I’m gonna kinkshame Dirk._ “ No yiffing in my lobby,” Rory mumbles. _I’m’a gonna purify the land._

“ Rory,” Dirk says, pain flitting across his face (accompanied by serious confusion), “we can talk later, seriously.” 

Mr. Card tugs Dirk into the house, the door slamming locked behind them. 

“This is a bad idea,” Dirk mutters. “I shouldn’t, this is wrong, this is wrong…” 

“Shush,” Mr. Card tells him, “just have a drink, I know it hurts. It’ll feel better, don’t worry. I know better.” 

“You – You promise this’ll make it feel better?” Dirk queries softly, his voice flat and almost emotionless, his face still and unblinking. 

“I’ve been nothing short of _brutally_ honest.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Outside, Rory discovers the window that leads to Dirk and the rabbit. He flips Devon off in his bedroom, but Devon seems to be asleep. _Looks like we’ve all found a way, now…_

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In the bedroom, Dirk avoids looking at Devon and manages to find his way to the kitchen. Opening the fridge displays a six-pack of some kind of weird, pretentious ale and, almost absently, he removes one.

“ Don’t worry, Dirk,” Mr. Card says, ruffling his hair affectionately. “If you numb the pain, it’ll be so much easier.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Oh, really? Dirk is going to get drunk and yiff the rabbit, isn’t he? 

Well, there’s only one thing for this.

  
  


The **Bard** of **Heart** is now **Ready to Kinkshame!!!**

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Mr. Card notices Rory through the window and sighs… At least he’s out of the way. 

The top of the bottle - not the cap, but the top inch of the neck -- shoots off with a crack. _Destroyer of connections_. Dirk raises the bottle to his lips and convulsively gulps down at least half of the thing, not stopping when a sharp edge cuts into his lip. He grimaces, looks up at Card, and then finishes it off.

He doesn’t noticed the scopolamine that Mr. Card has prepared for just such an occasion.

Another cut appears across his pant leg, down by his shin, and this one has nothing to do with the bottle. 

Rory, undetected by Dirk alone, leans in closer to the window, smushing his face against it. 

“ Good boy,” Mr. Card coos. Then, pointing at Rory: “Now, how about you scare that mean man away.” 

Dirk turns to see Rory in the window; he goes to open it. “Rory, come on, dude, could you leave me alone?” 

“I wanna see what you’re doing,” Rory says cautiously. 

“Dirk, he’s being so _nosey_ ,” Card whines. “That’s probably why he’s so good at giving you _attention_.” 

“ Your rabbit is rude,” Rory says, talking over Card. “Don’t yiff him, Dirk.” 

“Rory, come on, I’m serious,” Dirk says, and the paint of the windowframe beneath his fingers begins to chip off. “Please, come on, leave me alone, I’ve got some stuff to deal with…” 

“I’m just helping him,” Card adds. “He was hurting you.” 

“Drinking,” rejoinds Rory, “doesn’t solve jack shit.” 

“I asked you to leave!” comes an exhausted groan from the bedroom.

“Your rabbit,” calls Rory, “is a drunk and a fool.” 

Dirk’s eyes are veiled with that thin sheen of separation, a degree achieved by utter drunkenness, but he stumbles out of the house. “Sorry, I – Sorry, Devon.” 

Outside, Rory follows him. “You need a hug, y’know?” 

Outside, he pushes Rory away. “Can you _not?_ Please! I don’t want to talk to you right now. It’s… I’m sorry, Rory, please, I just… I don’t want to be with any of the players right now, it’s too complicated.” 

And in his ear, Card whispers his advice: _Don’t let him draw you back in_. 

“ Yeah, well, drinking alone with a weird guide isn’t gonna help!” 

Dirk gives him a look that’s partially regret and unmistakably annoyance before he kicks off the ground, flying away from the planet at top speed. “You were right,” he mutters. “It’s hitting me now, you were right, it’s numbing, it’s like a bandage.”

“DON’T DRINK AND FLY!” Rory yells behind him.

“You’re \-- You \-- I shouldn’t have doubted you.” 

“Of course not,” Card agrees. “If you end their pain, you can end yours, Dirk.” 

Dirk tries to say the acronym _wdym_ out loud. 

It doesn’t work that well. 

(And behind them, flying at full force to catch up, is Rory.)

“What… What should I be doing?” Dirk says instead. 

(Behind him, Rory is gaining. Dirk kicks it up a notch.) 

“It’s easy,” Card explains. “Just cut them out of this painful, frankly _disgusting_ world. Why would you force them to live _here_ , in a hell on Earth?” 

(Rory groans in frustration, putting 100% of his power into flying, and propels a bone at Mr. Card’s head.) 

“See?” Card scoffs, blocking the bone easily with a massive card shield. “He attacks us in hopes that you’ll attack back.” 

“I… You want me to kill them? That doesn’t…” Something inside is telling Dirk that’s wrong, it’s wrong to kill people, but he can’t remember for the life of him why… 

Scopolamine. 

“He’s hurting a lot, you know. You remember how bad you can hurt…” 

“Don’t listen to him!” Rory calls, but it’s too late, and he’s talking to empty air. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the surface of Derse once again, Mr. Card and Dirk stand, a prism of spades fading. 

“Oh, Dirk. All that pain. They just don’t know what to do.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory halts in mid air. _I have to find Dirk._

  
  


DS: Troops, position of the Prince? 

DW: Not in the royal quarters.

EP: Not on LOSAI!

KB: He’s near me. I can smell him. 

  


Rory rushes toward Derse, heading for Knight Barkalot’s guard station. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“But that’s not… that’s not mo -- mo -- moral. Is it? I…” Dirk’s brow furrows. He’s thinking hard, but the depressants muddle his thoughts.

“It’s not moral to force somebody to live through that suffering, Dirk!” Card snaps. 

Then the violet-stained glass of the courtyard window by Dirk _shatters_ as Rory smashes through it.

“Fuck,” he chokes through gritted teeth, yanking the shards of glass from his skin not covered by his Kingly garb. “Dirk --”

“He’s _back?_ ” Card snarls in frustration, and they flash away again. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the roof of Ali’s residence in the Land of Aurora and Masquerade, Mr. Card and Dirk reform into tangible existence. Dirk actually falls backward, overcompensating for the lack of actual physical force against him as opposed to the gate of the courtyard he _was_ leaning on. “Why is he ch, chasing me?” he slurs. 

“ Because,” Card says impatiently, “he wants you to end his suffering. Come on, now.” 

  
  


DS: TROOPS?!

EP: ALI’S PLACE, WE GOT HIM!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory flies off, allegedly at Mach speed. It is likely, however, that the imps of physical science were kissing up to him in that particular report.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“He wants…” Util… util-something. It’s the sound of a philosophy Dirk once believed in… utilitarianism. _Look at the consequences, not the action. Save the most human lives possible…_

“ Come now, Dirk. Think about _life-long pain_.” 

Rory smashes into the roof, nearly tearing a hole in it as a pair of doggish imps tackle down Dirk. Card makes distressed, leporine sounds as he tries to beat them off. 

“ DIRK! PLEASE DON’T KILL EVERYONE!” 

Dirk retches, then catches himself, and a foggy concept makes itself clearer. “I don’t -- I wouldn’t do this… I \-- Dirk -- this isn’t something I would do.” 

“Oh,” Card says, sounding anything but pleased, “I’m so, uh, pleased. You… pass. I needed to make sure you understood that, uh, death wasn’t the answer.” 

“What the _fuck_ ,” Rory says, “is going on here?!” 

“Rory, _please_ \--” Dirk’s stance on the tilted rooftop is anything but steady. “I don’t… Come on. Let me be, okay? I’d rather not, right now.” 

“You should be _so_ proud of him,” Card sneers, glowering, and disappears. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A tall, rabbit-shaped guide appears atop Devon’s bed; its resident frowns. “Where were you?” 

Mr. Card smiles. 

He explains some things. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory approaches Dirk carefully, grabbing his arm. “Don’t fall.” 

“I –” Dirk’s brain wavers, slow to pick up on this course of events. “Where’s Mr. Card? Don’t --” he jerks his arm away -- "Don’t _touch_ me,  did I _tell_ you to touch me?” 

“Sorry,” Rory apologizes, “just – just let me try something, okay?” 

Dirk gives a sharp nod. 

Rory reaches out one hand, nodding to himself, his eyes open and revealing, and begins to stroke Dirk’s face. “Shush,” he murmurs. “Shoooooosh, calm down.

Dirk touches a hand to Rory’s, his jaw clenching and unclenching. “Why --” his voice a whisper -- “Why are you being so nice to me?” 

“ Shoosh,” Rory smirks. “I’m being nice to you because I  _ like _ you, you dumbfuck.” He pauses. “Not romantically. Platonically. Sorta. Not sure where moirails stand, the dogs --"

“This isn’t right,” Dirk interrupts, although he doesn’t move away. “This isn’t right, I can’t do this, I fucked it up with you and Devon and Tom, I can’t do this again \--”

“ _This is completely different_.” Rory’s voice is authoritative and definite. “I’m just going to calm you down, and then maybe we can watch a movie. No alcohol, though. My dad  drank a lot. Um, platonically. Just thought I should clarify that.” 

Dirk giggles _again_ , high-pitched and tinged with desperation. (It must happen more often when he’s drunk.) “That sounds… That sounds nice…” 

“Mm-hm,” Rory agrees, both hands now patting Dirk gently. “Don’t listen to that guide, I’m _pretty_ sure he’s got bad intentions.” 

“I – but he’s -- he’s right, Rory, don’t you see?” Dirk pushes Rory’s hands off of him, turning away, rocking back and forth, unconsciously hugging himself. “Devon found – found out about me with you and Tommaso, and he looked like he – like he hurt _so badly_ … It’s all my fault, Rory, it’s my fault, don’t you see?” 

“Nah,” he says easily. “Devon’s just an asshole. I wouldn’t use his opinion as the most important factor to your self-worth.” 

“It doesn’t matter, Rory,” Dirk mumbles. “I hurt him, I’m not talking about what he thinks, I’m talking about _what I did._ ” 

“You didn’t cheat on him. Wrong quadrant. He’s your _kismesis_ ,you _hate_ him. And you love Tommaso. He’s your matesprit. They’re completely different. I’m trying to be a sort of… anchor for your emotions. To love you platonically. That’s a moirail. They’re all separate, and you can have them all at the same time, and it’s not cheating.” 

Dirk sniffles. “I don’t think that’s making Devon feel better.” 

"Devon is in the wrong, Dirk. He’s making you feel bad when you’re not doing anything wrong.” 

  
  


EH: I hate 99.99999% of the people in this session

  
  


Dirk’s phone buzzes. 

He checks it. 

Dirk starts crying. 

  
  


DS: Fuck you.

EH: No Rory, fuck you

ER: im sorry devon

EH: no you aren’t

ER: i didnt mean to hurt anyone

  
  


Rory shooshes Dirk some more, typing with one hand and patting with the other. 

  
  


DS: You’re a pissbaby, Devon. 

EH: Mr. Card said you were gonna kill me

EH: fuck off Rory. 

ER: NO!!

EH: liar!

DS: Dirk is SORRY. Mr Card manipulated him, and I know he would never do that!

EH: you’ve lied to me before!

ER: i want to make up for hurting you!! i dont want to KILL you!!

DS: HE IS IN TEARS YOU UGLY FUCK LEAVE HIM ALONE!!!!! FUCK OFF DEVON!!!!

EH: LAST TIME SOMEBODY WANTED TO MAKE A PLAN I LOST MY HAND

EH: YOURE DEFENDING HIM!!?? HE HAS BEEN AWFUL TO ME

DS: I HOPE THAT WAS YOUR WANKING HAND SO YOU NEVER FEEL PLEASURE AGAIN!!!

ER: im so sorryd evon please tll me how ican make up for this

EH: Fuck off. 

  
  


“You don’t have to make up for anything. Don’t listen to him. Block him, Dirk.” 

  
  


EH: you don’t know what it’s

EH: Like

EH: he said I was special Rory... He lied.

DS: GET OVER IT

EH: You are such a bitch

EH: when j kill your dogs just get over it

  
  


“He’s right,” Dirk chokes. 

  
  


EH: is that your mentality?

  
  


“Not – Not about the dogs,” Dirk adds, “but – you know.” 

  
  


ER: i wante dto hmake youfeel special it was your first time

  
  


“No! He’s lying. Give me your phone for a second.” 

Dirk recoils. 

“ _Please_.” 

  
  


EH: liar

EH: you’re all liars and jerks

  
  


_You shouldn’t_. That little voice comes back to him from earlier. _You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, it’s not right_ … 

  
  


ER: i tghouht i oculd make you feel good

ER: i justw ante dyou to feel good

EH: well I feel like crap right now

EH: thanks

EH: it would’ve been better if you didn’t lie and string me along

  
  


“Please, Dirk. It’s for your own good.” 

  
  


DS: You’re his KISMESIS you dumbass

EH: mr. Card is showing me all the things you did with him. Oh my god Dirk... What... What the hell? 

DS: STOP GETTING JEALOUS OVER HIS RED PARTNERS

  
  


_You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t_ … 

  
  


ER: roryswa ntsme to give my phone

ER: im sorry forbeing atrrible person devon

  
  


Dirk hands over his phone. 

  
  


EH: you are drunk!? Ugh

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** has now **blocked enthusiasticHeretic [EH]**! [1:31AM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Curled up in his bed, Devon throws his phone, and cries like a bitch. 

27 27


	21. Every Night it's Fireworks

#  Sunday, November 15, 2015: Part Two

“Well,” Ali says, “you know, Tom, I like being included from time to time.” 

Tom frowns. “Is that an innate desire? Like, do you feel that part of you doesn’t _want_ to be included?” 

“No,” she says, “I think I _do_ want to be included! How is this helping train me to fight, again?” 

“Okay, then, now… do the thing!” 

“Huh?” 

“The… _thing!_ ” 

“I don’t think _this_ is how it works.” 

“Uh, I don’t know… the _HOPEY_ thing!” He sounds very dramatic. 

“What’s the hopey thing even supposed to be like? Does Devon do something similar?” 

“I… don’t know. Can you turn into pure Hope?” 

“I did a few times, I think…” 

“We should practice that first, I guess. We need to get you able to consistently use magic; then, maybe, you’ll learn to do new things?” 

“I didn’t _need_ magic last time, though.” 

“You didn’t? Well, then…” Tom sighs, his face buried in his hands. “I’m sorry. I have no idea how Heirs work, all I know is that they embody their aspect and they can do _something_ with _manipulation_ , maybe? Dirk explained it so long ago…” 

“He said that I’m protected by hope!” she suggests. “I can also turn into it. Wanna see if I can do that again?” 

“Yeah, seeing it would probably help me figure out how it works.” 

“All I did was keep telling myself that I could escape. Over and over again.” 

“That sounds right,” he says agreeably. “Now, tell yourself you can, uh… go through a closed door.” 

“Alright.” Ali sits on the ground and concentrates and, after about a minute, a flickering, pale, off-white silhouette has begun to fade into view, outlining her body.

“Oh, _fuck_ , yeah! I knew it, you can do it!” (This outburst breaks her concentration, and Ali lapses into normalcy. “Do it more!” 

“ More?” Her face looks oddly pinched, but it seems to be working, because (after  _ two _ minutes this time) her whole body flickers cream (though it soon fades). Out of breath, Ali collapses to the floor, sweat on her forehead.

“Sorry!” Tom says, hurrying to her. “I shouldn’t have pushed you; we still have time, so go ahead and use it!” 

“Okay.” She sits up again quickly enough. “I got it this time, I promise!” 

“Hey, as long as you think you can do it, I have faith in you.” 

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ve got it now!”

After another two minutes of focus, Ali straining, the room fills with a flash of bright light, Tommaso suppressing an urge to cackle and counting the seconds gleefully. _...18, 19, 20...42, 43 -_

“ I did it!” Ali says happily, if panting with exertion.

Tom smiles wrily, but his mind is in a different place.

Tommaso Mambelli has been feeling rather cynical, rather hateful lately, which is unusual for him. He was having urges to throw things at Ali, curses and insults - he’s justifying it by telling himself that it’s to test her faith, but he knows that’s a lie, and he knows he knows it. _And yet, the darkness liberates me. Nothing is holding me back from expressing myself now but me… In fact, one could argue that the influence of the Dark Gods is the reason I may choose not to show my ire. To advance the game, it is necessary to show her kindness, to manifest within her power dir_ _e… Jesus, I sound like a Bond villain._ “That’s great, Ali! Now, can you do anything else?” 

“I don’t think so…” 

“Well,” Tom says happily, annoyance snipping at his patience, “think so, then.” 

“I don’t know if there’s anything else I can do!” 

“ Try wishing for something… Like, conjure a pen, or something. Try –” (Tommaso cannot believe he’s saying this) – “ _ believing in yourself _ .”

Ali focuses again, muscles on her arms straining, but all she accomplishes is another flash of light – sooner, but also shorter. She also manages to find herself abruptly translocated _behind_ Tommaso. “Well, that’s something, at least.” 

“Well,” he says, straightening a cuff, “you’re protected by Hope, so what does that mean? I mean, Hope travel does kind of make it easy to _escape_ , and we know your powers are pretty effectively MEANT to be defensive. That’s not stopping us from weaponizing them in some other way, though. All we have to do is be creative. Any ideas?” 

“None at all.” 

Ali twiddles her thumbs. 

Tommaso glares. _Leave it to the_ single _knowledge class_ _in the gamespace_ _to be the only thinker._ “ Are you, perhaps, _stronger_ in your Hope form? Maybe immortal?” 

“Things pass through me. Maybe that can help?” 

“Not when fighting against Devon; he does the same thing. I can force him out of Light mode, however… Perhaps you can use your Hope mode against him when he’s human?” 

“No clue. I’m not the fighting type, y’know.” 

“Well, you killed _me…_ but then, I was human at the time.” Tommaso stares out the window, bits of distaste seeping into his words. “I think you’ll need to train with your strife specibus. See what bonuses you get in Hope form. Otherwise, I have the Gods on my side… I’ll be the glass cannon.” 

“I was _trying_ to kill Dirk…" _Who are these g_ _ods_ _he keeps talking about_ _?_ _They keep getting mentioned, and I keep getting cut off from answers._ " Which gods, exactly?” 

Tommaso’s gaze snaps to her. “You were trying to kill Dirk? Why?” 

“That was right after he almost killed Navo. I was justified!” 

Unbeknownst to the two, Mr. Card hides in the walls. 

“ _Oh_ ,” he breathes, laughing. “Oh, okay, I _completely_ misinterpreted what you meant. I thought you said that you want to kill Dirk _now_ … Thank God you don’t.” 

“ _Me?_ Try to kill _Dirk?_ I don’t have a death wish!” 

“And I'm glad to know that, too.” 

A whisper emanates from the wall nearest Ali, not loud enough to be heard by Tommaso. “ _Ask him about Rory.”_

“ Huh? Tom, did you say something?” 

“Yeah, I said I’m glad you don’t want to die anymore.” 

“Uh, no, I heard that. Something about Rory?” 

A heavy sigh of exasperation emanates from the same wall, but it’s quiet enough that no one detects it. 

“Did I say something about also killing Rory? I’m sure I _must_ have, after talking about Devon so much.” 

“ _Ask him_ why _,”_ Card insists. 

“I’m probably goin’ to crash soon, we’ve been up for a while, it's almost three in the afternoon… But why?” 

Tom shrugs. “Ali, he wants to _doom the session_. We have a chance to create a new universe, begin all those lives we ended anew. If we want to, we can make it _just like_ Earth, make it so that all the people who died because we started this can live...”  He frowns. "Well, not the bad ones. I'm not really sure yet _exactly_ who, but a more perfect Earth is what _I'm_ going for, at least, and he doesn't want to allow it. It’s complicated.” 

“ _So perhaps just murderous. Be careful, Miss Ali. I will be the voice of Hope for you.”_

“ Miss…” Ali spins to face the wall. “There’s someone here.” 

“ _ It’s, uh, just the voice in your head _ – "

“ _What?_ ” 

Card teleports back to Devon. If he were human, he’d be sweating heavily. _That was way too close. I knew I should've slipped_ her _something, too._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom flicks and the space Ali’s facing becomes invisible, but nothing resides within the walls except electrical wiring and a few beams. “???”

“ N \-- Nothing… I guess I’m just on edge lately.” 

“Well,” Tom says, throwing off the prickly feeling on his neck, “I guess you better start working on your strife skills.” 

“Are we gonna fight each other to practice? I've been awake for, like, twenty-four hours straight now _at least._ ” 

"Ali, we're god-tiers. We can't sleep anyway without drugs." 

"I know, and it sucks." 

“... _Anyway_ , I’m way too powerful for you to be sparring with at this stage. Let’s see if you can fight other things and work your way up to me.” 

“Can’t you just go easy? I’m too afraid to fight the imps… They don’t stop if you ask.” 

“Ali, your power’s best specialization is in running away.” 

“Please? Pretty please?”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Having been papped thoroughly through at least seven Star Wars movies by Rory (and still not entirely understanding of the consequences or motivations behind this), including one that apparently didn't exist yet when the Earth got blown up, Dirk begins his venture off into the starry black void in search of Tommaso and Ali. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Ali. You need to get out of your comfort zone.” 

“Can’t we start _in_ the comfort zone?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

No, wait. No, he was _on_ her _roof_. 

On second thought, he just descends to her front door. _Alliances…_ The word suddenly sits uneasily with him. _Wasn’t that one of the things George Washington warned against in his parting speech as president?_

“ Dirk-y,” calls a singsong voice, and Dirk grimaces. “I need to show you something!” 

He’s not quite as drunk, and Rory’s warnings stay with him. “What are you trying to do?”

With a flash of light, they’re back on LOPAL, a heart-shaped screen before them (and Dirk shoving the guide away). “Let me show you something,” Card urges, grinning unmercifully. “I can’t fake these things, you know. It’s _real_.” 

The onscreen Tommaso speaks – _kiling Rory? I'm sure I_ must... _a more perfect Earth is what_ I'm _going for_ \--  and Dirk’s demeanor grows even grimmer. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“...fine, we’ll start _in_ your comfort zone. Jesus.” 

“ Thank you!” Ali allocates her bow and draws.

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** has opened **MEMO** **: Tom, Should We Talk?** on **BOARD** **: Alliances!** [2:44PM]

  
  


Tom allocates a sword. Even at a long distance, Ali should be able to hit him. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** has now **added sexySlytherin [SS]** and **vividParadox [VP]** to **BOARD: Alliances!** [2:45PM]

  
  


She misses the first shot by an inch. “Shit.” 

  
  


ER \---> SS & VP: are you planning on doing anything to rory???

  
  


Tom just watches, making no move as the arrow hits about five feet behind him. 

He gives her a look. 

Then he smacks her with the flat of his sword.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Oh, Dirk,” Card says discouragingly, pushing at the mobile with a tail. “Put your phone away. You gotta tell me about stuff. Like…” The sprite rolls over in mid air, facing Dirk upside-down. “Will you protect the _Bard?_ Or the _Mage?_ ” 

Dirk glances up at Card, his lips pursed. “Are you sure? This could be a misunderstanding.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

She collapses to the floor, real panic in her voice as: “Okay, stop! Stop!” 

Tommaso groans. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Didn’t he say he _hated_ people vying for your affections?” 

“I guess so…” 

  
  


ER \---> SS & VP: tom???

  
  


“Of course. So, which will you save?” 

  


Meanwhile: 

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re going to need a _lot_ of work.” 

She’s still curled up on the floor.

  
  


SS \---> ER & VP: yeah? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Words of Dirk’s come back to him from hours ago. If this is supposed to be a difficult decision, Card has misjudged. _I thought I loved him_. “T --” Dirk has to swallow again, remember to breathe before he can finish the name. “Tommaso. Of course.” 

  
  


SS \---> ER & VP: dirk? 

  
  


Dirk looks down at his phone again, like he’s surprised to find it where it was left.

“Really?” Card looks disgruntled. “Well, that is quite the development! Now, go away.” 

  
  


SS \---> ER & VP: okay add me and don’t say anything see if I care

  
  


“Wait, what? What d – What do you mean? Weren’t you supposed to…” His memories are muddled, he's _so tired_ , his thoughts slow, (there's got to be _some_ way that god-tiers get to sleep naturally in the new universe), but doesn’t Dirk remember something about Card _helping_ him and his allies? 

“Trust me, sweet Prince. Just do as you’re told and go.” 

“ O \-- Okay,” Dirk says. He’s still confused, though exactly what  _ about _ he probably can’t say.

  
  


ER \---> SS & VP: im coming over. wait up.

ER \---> SS & VP: sorry, were you going to do something to rory???

SS \---> ER & VP: yeah kill him

SS \---> ER & VP: hes the final boss and all

ER \---> SS & VP: the black king is already dead though, rory killed him. 

SS \---> ER & VP: yeah but guess who started the reckoning

SS \---> ER & VP: def not the black king

VP \---> ER & SS: He also claimed himself to be the new black king. 

ER \---> SS & VP: its terrible, but theres no cyclical reasoning that can allow there NOT to be a reckoning in our session without a paradox. 

SS \---> ER & VP: but was that why he did it? 

SS \---> ER & VP: or did he want us to live in this session forever and fail

SS \---> ER & VP: he said he wanted to destroy skaia, not earth

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Can you go easier next time?” Ali suggests, standing shakily. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Troubled by this development, Dirk flies off into the blackness of space, away from LOPAL and toward LOAAM. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Mr. Card clicks off Devon’s phone. _Don’t need more players fucking up my plans…_ He’s got the recording he needs. Now, all he has to get is Rory. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“I literally just _touched_ you with my sword.” 

“I _do_ need some work,” Ali admits. “Hit me again.” 

“Maybe going Hope mode might help?” 

“No, I want to do this without god-tier magic bullshit.” 

“Hm. Alright, then.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A few minutes later -- contemplative flying making him slower, not to mention the residual drink in his veins impeding his efforts – Dirk sets foot on Ali’s porch again. “Guys?” His throat is dry. _Very_ dry. 

“HIT ME, TOM!” screams a certain Heir’s voice indoors. 

  


Meanwhile: 

Tom takes another swing, of caliber equal to the last. 

From the direction of the front door comes a _hiccup_ ing sound and the phrase “Kinky.” 

Ali falls over backward. “Come in!” 

Dirk makes himself known. 

“Dirk! I need you to hit me!” 

Dirk snickers. “I thought you weren’t into me like that.” 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **private messaging vividParadox [VP]!** [2:59PM]

  
  


EH \---> VP: I’m sorry it had to be us two in this situation

  
  


“I’m trying to build up my strength, so just _hit me!_ ” 

Dirk waves vaguely in the Mambelli’s direction as Ali’s phone buzzes unnoticed on a nearby shelf. “Wha’s’up Tom.” 

“DO IT!” 

Dirk slaps her across the face. She swears. Holding onto her shoulders for balance, Dirk lines up the shot, and then kicks Ali in the vagina.

  
  


EH \---> VP: and I’m sorry that I’m too much of a coward to do it. Alright. That’s all. Talk to you soon maybe. 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now no longer **private messaging vivdParadox [VP]**!  [3:00PM]

  
  


Ali falls to the ground, crying. 

“Oh, shit.” 

“Thanks.” 

“Uh, you’re welcome.” 

Her voice is hoarse. “Can you help me up?” 

Dirk offers her his hand, then promptly forgets what he’s doing and withdraws her (leaving her to smack her ass on the living room floor) as he remembers the entire reason he even came (besides, y'know, Solidarity™). “Oh, fuck.” 

Unassisted, Ali stumbles to her feet. “What?” 

“So… you two were going to kill Rory?” 

“I’m not sure,” Ali answers honestly. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory stands on Derse, staring up at Skaia, watching the meteors rain down, most swallowed by portals – but others breaking through the defenses. He fiddles with the ring around his finger, stained on one side with the dried blood of a White Queen. His scepter hovers next to him, kept aloft with the same magic that Rory uses to summon his bones. 

Rory sighs. 

“Why do I feel guilt?” he queries, as though the great blue expanse of Skaia could give him an answer.

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **private messaging derseSovereign [DS]**!  [3:01PM]

  
  


EH \---> DS: I know you hate me

EH \---> DS: but I found something

  
  


Rory scowls at the tag, contempt flashing across his face. 

  
  


DS \---> EH: What do YOU want?!

EH \---> DS: I know you don’t like me but I think we can help each other out. Take a look at this

EH \---> DS: FILE SENT: treachery.mp4

  
  


‘ _Tommaso’_ , Rory mouths in time with Dirk. _You’d side with Tommaso…_ He shakes his head. 

  
  


DS \---> EH: He’s drunk, Devon. He shouldn’t be making these heavy decisions when he’s drunk.

EH \---> DS: not drunk enough not to mean it 

EH \---> DS: regardless, that means Tommaso and Ali are coming for you

DS \---> EH: I knew they would be.

EH \---> DS: meaning we can be mutually beneficial to each other

DS \---> EH: You are an asshole and I dislike you immensely. 

EH \---> DS: so you’re fighting them on your own?

DS \---> EH: I’m not fighting them. 

EH \---> DS: you’re gonna let them kill you??

DS \---> EH: No. 

DS \---> EH: I’m going to run. 

EH \---> DS: From a Mage of void? He literally knows everything about the unknown. He’ll getcha

EH \---> DS: we could always just... Restrain them

DS \---> EH: There is no ‘we’, Devon. If running doesn’t work I will try diplomacy. 

  
  


Although not really related to his current goals, the vision of Dirk kicking Ali in the crotch in a passing Skaian cloud is not unwelcome. 

“TAKE THAT!” he cries, forgetting his guilt for a moment. 

  
  


EH \---> DS: diplomacy with a hentai monster? 

DS \---> EH: I’ve spoken to the Dark Gods before. I do live on Derse. 

EH \---> DS: he’s gone crazy! He has black glowy stuff

EH \---> DS: he’s going after Dirk’s exes

EH \---> DS: Rory if I wasn’t desperate I wouldn’t be coming to you. I literally had one hand cuz of him

DS \---> EH: Is this a reverse Scott Pilgrim? 

  
  


But then something else entirely occurs. 

Something that chills him to his core. 

“ _So… you two were going to kill Rory?”_ Cloud Dirk says, and Rory’s blood runs cold. 

“I’ve fucked up, haven’t I?” he whispers, his heart racing, his navel heavy and panicky. He’s a bit lightheaded. 

  
  


EH \---> DS: ??

DS \---> EH: Dirks 7 normal exes have to fight his 1 evil boyfriend. 

EH \---> DS: um... Sure? 

DS \---> EH: Coming to cinemas near you. 

EH \---> DS: Rory. Can we be serious for a second

DS \---> EH: I’m using humor to detract from the fact that I’m gonna FUCKING DIE DEVON. 

EH \---> DS: we don’t have to die

EH \---> DS: I mean we can work together

EH \---> DS: to y’know, live

DS \---> EH: You have to die anyway if they’re going to succeed. 

EH \---> DS: man. You’re so quick to kill your only potential ally

DS \---> EH: I think you’re forgetting Navo. 

DS \---> EH: You know, my wife? 

EH \---> DS: she’s gone off the grid

EH \---> DS: nobody can even find her

DS \---> EH: She’s at Derse you dumbfuck. 

EH \---> DS: and apparently somebody tried to kill her and she couldn’t even defend herself

EH \---> DS: so she can’t be that helpful

DS \---> EH: She was probably sleeping. 

EH \---> DS: She should be more on point

DS \---> EH: You lost your hand you can’t be that helpful

EH \---> DS: To be fair

EH \---> DS: he lost his hand too

EH \---> DS: a hand for a hand

EH \---> DS: and I got mine back

  


**derseSovereign [DS]** is now **Idle**! [3:06PM]

  


EH \---> DS: Rory... 

EH \---> DS: I miss our friendship

EH \---> DS: so if I don’t see you again

EH \---> DS: sorry

EH \---> DS: good luck

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now no longer **private messaging derseSovereign [DS]**!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Devon is truly alone. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory shoves his phone back into his codpiece, sighing. 

  
  


♞

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Leaving Ali to her (rather unimpressive) training, Dirk retreats to Skaia once again. The patrons of the second-tallest Dersite tower remember him; although meteors fall, he has no care for such considerations. While at Ali’s, Tom disappeared when they weren’t looking, presumably putting some other plan into action, and Ali wasn’t exactly _helpful_ about explaining Tommaso’s plots. 

_What do you notice?_ Dirk asks himself.

_I notice that I have a bad feeling about this._

He sighs and sips his wine anyway.

_..._ _idea?_

On second thought, he has an idea. 

All the knowledge of Satan is his, and it includes quite a bit about the Sburban mechanisms; how the new universe is to be created, and what materials must be used. One of those, naturally, is the birthplace of the Genesis Frog in the center of Skaia, which is why the Reckoning halts the production of any new universe after Skaia is destroyed by its meteors, dooming the session. _But what if Skaia doesn't have to be destroyed by the Reckoning?_

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging sexySlytherin [SS]**! [4:10PM]

  


ER \---> SS: tom, i need your knowledge on the reckoning. 

ER \---> SS: specifically, with the powers of a prince of blood, a mage of light, the dark gods and a hell of a lot of story-breaking wordplay, can we reroute the meteors?

SS \---> ER: only if we want a paradox, in most gamespaces...

ER \---> SS: im sensing a "but"

SS \---> ER: but the ectobiology meteors have already been sent to earth. we cant afford to stop the reckoning before it starts, but AFTER it starts is a different story

ER \---> SS: well, hot damn. lets buy ourselves some time

SS \---> ER: do exactly as i say... 

  
  


Dirk Quintana smiles. 

A few more days saved, at the very least. 

  


♞ 

  
  


**enthusiasticHeretic [EH]** is now **private messaging entropicRelativity [ER]!** [4:53PM]

  
  


EH \---> ER: I am alone and probs going to die and I blame it

  
  


**MESSAGE BLOCKED.**

  
  


EH \---> ER: On you. 

  
  


**MESSAGE BLOCKED.**

  
  


DS: Please don’t kill me. 

EH: oh you’ll beg but you won’t just team up with me

DS: That’s cause I don’t like you. 

EH: I LIKE LIFE MORE THAN I HATE YOU THOUGH

  
  


Predictably, this goes nowhere. 

  
  


♞ 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging derseSovereign [DS]!** [5:24PM]

  
  


ER \---> DS: i think tom and ali were going to do something against you rory. 

ER \---> DS: but you dont need to die to complete the game. 

ER \---> DS: i think weve figured out a way to steal some time before the end. ill keep him occupied, but, rory... 

ER \---> DS: run. 

ER \---> DS: i dont think you qualify so sufficiently as the black king that we have to kill you to win. 

DS \---> ER: That’s what I was planning, dear. 

ER \---> DS: im in a dersite tower on skaia and theyre happy to accept the players. 

DS \---> ER: Dirk? 

ER \---> DS: well, i say HAPPY. 

DS \---> ER: I don’t want to fight anyone

ER \---> DS: truth is they keep yelling at me. 

ER \---> DS: but they did give me wine when i asked for it, so. 

DS \---> ER: I’m scared Dirk I don’t want to die I don’t want tommaso to kill me

ER \---> DS: well fix it, rory. 

ER \---> DS: well fix it together. 

ER \---> DS: everything. 

  
  


EH: is Dirk online? Can you at least get him to unblock me???

DS: no

EH: you are so mean to me

DS: gtfo

EH: why are you so ruuuuude

DS: i have reason to

EH: WHY!?!?

ER: im so sorry, devon... 

ER: only rory said i shouldnt be talking to you. 

DS: yes becayse Devon is an asshole who doesn’t understand quadrants

EH: you can still see me in the board?

ER: board trumps blocking, i guess.

EH: unblock me you prick

DS: fuck you

EH: TW: language

ER: ...rory said i shouldnt talk to you. 

ER: im so tired. 

ER: im sorry. 

DS: i blocked you on dirks phone

EH: well unless you want me to make a spectacle in front of everyone unblock me

DS: no

DS: you’re bad for dirks mental health

EH: nobody is asking you “soon to be dead” guy

DS: if you want to say anything say it here don’t abuse him in pms

EH: you want me to embarrass him in front of everyone? 

DS: I WANT YOU TO FUCK OFG

EH: Idc what you want

ER: what do you want to tell me, devon?

EH: you’re an asshole to me

ER: im sorry. 

EH: I just wanted to tell you that you are the most despicable one in the session. 

DS: FUCK YOU DEVON

  
  


Meanwhile: 

(Devon snatches at his chest in sudden, inexplicable pain, and falls to his knees, groaning.) 

(Mr. Card frowns.)

  
  


Meanwhile: 

(Floating before Skaia, Mr. Card appears before Rory and draws one long paw across his neck. “Quit it.”)

  
  


ER: im sorry. 

  
  


(Rory’s fist clenches further. “Fuck you, as well.”)

(“Don’t you understand that will just make it worse? It’s now possible that if you die, then it’ll be _Just_. It'll be retributive justice, but justice all the same.”)

(Rory’s eyes glow faintly in response, and the Bard of Heart gets to work.)

  
  


Meanwhile: 

(On the floor of his bedroom, Devon bursts into long-drawn, screaming sobs.)

(God fucking damn it, Rory.) 

  
  


ER: do you want me to come over there, devon???

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk considers the bottle. A couple glasses' worth are gone: not much. 

  
  


EH: I just want you to die or something

ER: ...maybe that can happen. 

EH: whatever.

  
  


The cut on Dirk’s shoulder is still bleeding. It’s the deepest of his more recent accidental cuts, and he’s kind of surprised he isn’t feeling more lightheaded from it before he remembers that he’s already kinda lightheaded from the wine, and obviously by now Devon’s beer has worn off, but still… He’s been drinking a _lot_ for a days’ activity. _That's, what, seventeen hours? Could be worse._

Dirk stands unsteadily from his place at the top of the tower and begins to descend the stairs, pushing aside any Dersites who happen to be in his way. Near the bottom of the tower, a statue of the Black King and his Queen stand, each one separate, each one independently resolute... Well, formerly resolute. The statue of the Black King is fallen, broken into two. 

This deep in the Dersite tower, there are no soldiers around, all of them above, tending what else there is to be tended in such a tower. There is no business of theirs to be had down there. 

A second cut (or, rather, a fourth) appears, all the way down Dirk’s back, the invisible sword almost touching his spine. He falls on his knees, choking on something that isn’t there. Not blood; not tears; what? _Another_. This one is more of a gash, straight across his belly. If one were to juxtapose the two now deepest, it would form a cross. 

Dirk has never had much use for crosses. 

He finds his palms flat on the stone, breathing belabored.

_Once I was in power. Once, I_ was _power._ But he was Damocles, some unknown force Dionysius. Now he has lost that power. And where is he to go? 

And this time Dirk raises that sword of his own consciousness, and Damocles’ sword in the form of connection’s destruction plunges through him. 

Dirk falls to his side before the the statues of Dersite royalty. 

In the second-tallest Dersite tower of Skaia, Dirk Quintana’s bloodshot eyes close. 

  
  


The **Prince** of **Blood** is now **dead**!

  
  


_Above, where seated in his tower,_

_I saw the Prince depicted in his power_

_There was a sharpened sword above his head_

_That hung there by the thinnest simple thread._

  
  


DS: I am going to kill you, Devon. 

EH: If you kill me make it fast at least

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory’s eyes are still glowing as he turns toward Mr. Card. “You’ve caused enough meddling for one game. I can _feel_ whatever twisted, guidely thing it is you call your soul. I can destroy it.” 

Mr. Card shrugs. “Destroying me won’t fix a thing. Your friends are all gonna die anyway.” And with that, Card teleports to Derse, for a separate mission of his own agenda, then back home.

Rory _screams_ at the empty space in rage. He’s going to make that _goddamn rabbit_ pay. He reaches out, an emotive signal and manipulation speeding toward his own guide, with one command: _Destroy_.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Land of Survivors and Indexes, Jack Skellingdog is ready to kill the rabbit. 

On the Land of Paint of Labyrinth, Jack Skellingdog teleports into range. “This is Halloween, bitch.” 

Distressed bunny noises escape Card’s lips as the card suits that decorate the outside of the Pique quarter activate, beams firing at Jack from each diamond -- 

  


Meanwhile: 

Barely outside of Skaia, Rory’s eyes begin to dim. _Jack can get this done._ Removing the more conscious part of his instruction from the guide's head in order to better focus, the King contemplates his next objective: to find and kill Spades Slick. _I’ll need all the firepower I can get_.

Peering at the pair of scepters before him, comparing them, Rory frowns. The white is smooth, the top ever-so-slightly luminescent, but the black, it feels cheap; its engravings, less detailed; its cap, merely a jewel, while the White Royalty’s cap is a perfect image of Skaia. 

In fact, Rory knows enough of the Archagent’s chosen styles of subterfuge and trickery to know that this scepter is a _fake_. 

Was there ever any doubt as to its true owner? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Elsewhere, deep inside of the twisting tunnels of Derse, Slick polishes the scepter. _Just according to_ keikaku. _And now for the final touch…_ Slick removes the gloves from his hands and, without much fanfare or even any particular sense of awe, grips the scepter. A rush of power flows through the Carapacian, his body morphing: floppy bunny ears and curved ram horns sprout from his head (now canine), his digits and most extraneous pieces becoming bony and skeletal. A fur coat adorns his shoulders, dalmatian-print and stylish, with a hole flexible for the tentacles snaking out from his back. A jagged lightning-bolt scar mars his forehead. 

He is powerful. 

He is _godlike_. 

Just according to _keikaku_. 

  
  


♞

In the dungeons of an anonymous Dersite tower, its soldiers slain, Dirk Quintana awakens yet again, covered in his own blood. 

Another motion of his hand. 

Another death. 

He just wants to _rest_ , for real, without chemical help. 

He just wants to _sleep._

In the dungeons of an anonymous Dersite tower, its soldiers slain, Dirk Quintana awakens. 

He tries again. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

An anger burns through Rory, hotter than any he’s ever felt for anyone, including, shockingly, a certain Heir. In his hands, the ersatz scepter snaps, and a message (an order) is sent out to every single one of his faithful subjects, every single outpost on every single planet (except for one). 

_Destroy Slick._

A _beep_ -ity noise makes itself heard, and Rory sighs, the dramatic tension ruined by his cell phone. 

_Low battery… May as well make the best of it._

  
  


  
  


**derseSovereign** **[** **DS** **]** is now **private messaging** **vividParadox** **[** **VP** **]!** [6:33PM]

DS \---> VP: Apparently you want to kill me. Let me tell you that this is usually frowned upon and is not a healthy part of a black relationship. 

VP \---> DS: I’m too tired to kill anyone right now. Took a beating today. Can we just talk? 

DS \---> VP: Fine. 

VP \---> DS: Can you meet me on my roof? It’s easier to talk than to text. 

DS \---> VP: So long as you promise not to kill me. 

VP \---> DS: I swear. I’ll even leave my bow in my room. 

DS \---> VP: I’ll be there soon. I’m bringing my bones. 

VP \---> DS: Yay! Thank you!

  


**derseSovereign** **[** **DS** **]** is now **no longer** **pr** **ivate messaging** **vividParadox** **[** **VP** **]!** [6:33PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali allows her feet to touch down on the roof, lying down carefully to stare up into the bright, shining-silvery sky. A dot zooms across the sky, then screeches to a halt and accelerates in the opposite direction.

It’s getting bigger. 

“What the fuck?” 

Rory crashes into Ali’s roof for the second time today. 

“RORY \--” Ali is thrown aside, barely keeping her (mid-air) balance, she _sucks_ at flying – “I swear to SHIT can’t you just be CIVIL for once I mean god DAMN why are you always crashing into things, huh?” 

“Aesthetic.” 

“Aesthetic? What kind of answer is that?! That doesn’t even make sense!” 

“My aesthetic is crashing into things and being rude.” 

“Then… fine. Just don’t do that on my planet. It’s already beat up enough.” 

“Fuck your planet.” 

“Excuse me?! My planet has to be one of the most beautiful in the session! It should be preserved, not destroyed by _random sprite attacks_ and _crash-landing into my house!_ ” 

“I’m gonna fuck your planet. I’ll stick my dick in the ground. Just watch me.” 

“Then I’ll blow up Derse. Just watch me.” 

“Rude.”

“No shit! You aren’t helping the situation. Why don’t _you_ go fuck _yourself?_ ” 

“I can’t. Try as I might, I’m just not flexible enough to suck my own dick.” 

“Too much info, Rory.” 

“I’m just kidding. I totally can.” 

She pauses, trying to decide whether to register or reject this information. “So where’d _you_ just come from?” 

“Skaia.” 

“What were you doing _there?_ ” 

“Trying to kill Slick.” 

“I… see…” The pair of them stand there on Ali’s roof. “You seem to have a bigger twist in your panties than normal. Would you like some tea?” 

“Fine.” He shakes his head. “Being a king is hard, Ali. It’s hard and nobody understands.” 

Ali levitates into her home through the window. “Green or earl grey?” 

“Earl grey.” 

“Alrighty,” she calls to him, still outside. She puts a pot of water on the stove. “Make yourself comfortable in the living room.” 

Rory flies in through a different window, which _was_ closed. What a menace.

“Rory! Please stop breaking things! Please? I need this house. I _live_ there.” 

“You can’t make me.” 

“Rory, I’ll pour this tea in the sink, knock it the fuck off.” By the time she returns to the living room, however… “Rory?” 

_Crashing into things and being rude..._

There’s another broken window. 

For fuck’s sake. 

1 16


	22. Sleep to Dream (MY MIND AWAKE)

#  Monday, November 16, 2015: Part One

Dirk sits up, groggy, and his tia shakes her head vigorously, signing: _Drink!_ She hands him a glass of water, and he drinks deeply. She nods nominally, thoughtful, her mind elsewhere.

“Dirk?” comes a voice, from outside of the chamber. “You still here?”

Dirk’s tia hurriedly throws the sheets of the bed over Dirk’s head, and he doesn’t protest; she stands from her position beside him and signs violently at the visitor.

  


Meanwhile: 

The unfamiliar woman rushing at her is way too fast for Ali to read properly, but the gist is obvious: _Out!_ When Ali doesn’t go fast enough, she shoves her back toward the stairs leading down here -- 

“E \-- Excuse me, ma’am! I came to see my _friend_ , can’t I at least speak to him?!” 

The woman huffs, flips her off, and not-at-all surreptitiously seizes a pistol from a nightstand that looks more like it belongs in the 1950s than a fantastic tower. Bluntly, she waves it around a little, but doesn’t actually point it at Ali, shooing her.

“Ma’am, please!” Ali’s voice is wavering, though she’s fully aware that she’s practically immortal… _Well, probably. I probably won’t die. Well, I won’t stay dead…_

She sighs exaggeratedly and spells out two words, letter by letter: _F-U-C-K-O-F-F_.

“ _ Ma’am! _ That is really offensive! I just want to see my friend! Is that too much to ask?!” Trying to recall her ASL classes, Ali signs out, shakily, letter by letter:  _ P-L-E-A-S-E. _

The lady sighs in disdain, rolling her eyes, and signs slowly, reciprocating in letters. _N-O-O-N-E-S-E-E-D-Q-N-O-W._

_P-L-E-A-S-E_

Dirk’s mouth is open, watching vigilantly from the bed. 

“ Dirk,” Ali pleas, frustrated, “I need your help! I have no idea what to do!” 

Dirk rolls out of the bed, and the woman shoots a glare at Ali as she rushes to him. Dirk is absolutely covered in dried blood, dark and stained, and as he stumbles toward Ali he can’t quite seem to stand up… “What… What happened?” he mumbles, but his companion shushes him, helping him stand, trying to get him back to the bed. 

“Dirk, what the fuck happened to you?!” 

  


Meanwhile: 

Back inside Ali’s house, Rory raids her wardrobe for clothes to put on _over_ his Bard attire. He’s taken a liking to a very… particular sweater. At the moment, he’s posing seductively and simultaneously praying to god no one sees.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk waves her off. “Where -- Rory?” The woman shoves the blankets over his head as he struggles feebly. 

“ _I_ don’t know, do I? He _was_ in my house, but then he vanished all mysterious-like --" _And, pardon me, who the_ hell _is she?_ as the mystery woman _bares her teeth_ at Ali, but steps away when Dirk manages a swipe at her. 

He removes the covers from his head, and up close, Ali can see that blood sticks his hair together. He seems to be having trouble speaking; he can hardly keep his eyes open. “D -- Devon…?” 

“His _god-awful_ guide won’t let anyone talk to him. That scheming hare has something planned and I’m not sure I wanna know what it is. But we _need_ to stop it.” 

  


Meanwhile: 

Rory, having now discovered the _absolute_ limit to the number of sweaters that he personally is able to wear at any given time, decides that he needs to bedazzle this mess _immediately_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk appears to be asleep. 

His mysterious compatriot taps Ali on the shoulder and points to the bottle of pills she’s holding. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory whips out his trusty bedazzler and gets to work. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ What the _fuck_ did you fucking _give_ him?” Ali says, wheeling on her. 

_H-Y-P-N-O-T-I-C,_ she signs. _D-I-A-Z-E-P-A-M_.

“ How long is he out for?” she demands. “And who the fuck are you to drug him?!” 

Dirk’s unfamiliar friend’s mouth screws up in anger and she signs furiously, too quickly for Ali to read, before sighing, calming, and starting again. _H-I-S-O-N-L-Y-L-I-V-I-N-G-F-A-M-I-L-Y_. 

“ You’re his _tia?_ ” Ali is the definition of regretful as her shoulders droop and her eyebrows rise. “I’m so sorry, ma’am, I didn’t think _anyone_ other than the game players survived – let alone _family_ \-- and I’m just -- I’m so sorry!” 

Dirk’s tia turns away from Ali in apparent disgust and returns to her seat (a stool beside Dirk’s bed), lifting a sponge from a bucket before hidden by the bed to dab at Dirk’s face -- but then she turns back to Ali, very little pain evident in her eyes. _Though, judging by what I’ve heard about Dirk’s_ mother – _really, all his family – that’s just par for the course, and he was the one who couldn’t deal, who didn’t learn_ … 

_H-E-L-P,_ signs Dirk’s tia, nearly forgotten. 

“ Of course! With what?” Ali’s heart is beating fast. Hoo boy.  _ Time to atone for your sins, little girl. _

Dirk’s tia whistles, _loudly_ , more loudly than Ali was ready for, and signs at a Dersite that appears in the doorway. In a moment it shuffles in with another bucket of warm, soapy water, another sponge floating in it. Dirk’s tia nods stiffly at Ali, and goes back to her ministrations. 

“What \-- What do you want me to do?” 

_C-L-E-A-N-H-I-M_.

“ But that means I’d have to - I’m not undressing him!” 

Dirk’s tia raises an eyebrow and points at the door. 

“Huh?” 

_U-N-O-H-E-L-P-U-L-E-A-V-E-O-T-H-E-R-W-I-S-E-U-N-D-R-E-S-S-M-Y-N-E-P-H-E-W_.

“ O \- Okay. And you’re sure he wouldn’t be… _uncomfortable_ with me _sponge-bathing_ him?” 

  


Meanwhile: 

Rory has finally finished bedazzling his sweater. On the front, in rainbow sequins, is the phrase _FUCK OFF._

He’s so proud. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk’s tia rolls her eyes, then manages to rip half of Dirk’s shi rt off of him. She explicitly takes the time to sign, shrugging, _O-O-P-S._

Ali is composed entirely and unmistakably of discomfort. 

Dirk’s tia upends another bucket of water over him, softening the blood sticking his clothing to him, and manages to get the rest of his shirt off, then moves to Dirk’s torn-ass jeans.

They get to work. 

  
  


♞

  
  


“A \-- Are you done?” Ali is facing the wall. They left his briefs on, but given that they were soaked through, it didn’t save either of them any innocence.

_You can’t even see me you fucking dumbass,_ Dirk’s tia signs, secure in the advanced ASL knowledge that Ali does not possess. _How am I supposed to tell you?_

Nevertheless, Ali fearlessly turns, her hands covering her face. 

One step at a time for Ali Bradford. 

_Oh god fucking damn this unnecessary-ass shit he ain’t even got a change of clothes I mean fuckity fuck fuck,_ Dirk’s tia signs (or, at least, signs as closely as one can with sign language. It's not a terribly specific language). Not that Ali can tell. Then, _F-I-N-D-C-L-O-T-H-E-S_.

“ Alright…” 

  
  


ER \---> DS: COME 2 THE BATTLEFIELD

  
  


After maybe three minutes’ wait, she returns, a Dersite soldier’s uniform in hand. “ _Tia_ , I found some clothes! One of the Dersites gave them to me.” 

Dirk’s tia puts down the phone and heaves Dirk off of the bed and onto the stone floor. Whistling again, another Dersite brings her a cloth that she uses to towel him off, and by the time she sits up again she’s sweating heavily. 

Ali hands over the clothing. “Are these the right sizes?” 

Dirk’s relative takes off her shirt and throws it across the room, then grabs the Dersite shirt and fits the outfit over Dirk, frowning, studying it. It’s far too large, but the clothes aren’t actually _slipping_ –  well, not by _that_ much, so – _T-H-E-Y-L-W-O-R-K._

“ So…” Ali rocks uncomfortably on her heels. “How long until he wakes up? I really need his help.” 

_G-O-O-D-T-I-M-I-N-G_. Dirk’s tia grins, tossing Ali Dirk’s phone, her PM to Rory still displayed onscreen. 

“ You told Rory to come here? Why?! Dirk and I were the only ones who knew about this…” She trails off at his tia’s insistent, whispery  _ shush _ ing.

The woman -- she might be thirty-five? – has a matured face, and there’s no hint of glamor in it now. _B-A-S-E-O-F-O-P-E-R-A-T-I-O-N-W-H-O-E-V-R-D-I-D-T-H-I-S-P-A-Y-S_

Dirk stirs, drawing attention, but doesn’t awaken.

“ So, _how_ long until he wakes up? You never really told me.” 

_S-O-O-N-H-E-S-B-E-E-N-S-L-E-E-P-I-N-G-M-O-R-T-H-A-N-H-E-N-E-E-D-S_.

“ Great! Fantastic! Thank you, _tia!_ You don’t mind if I call you _tia_ , do you?” 

_M-I-N-O-M-B-R-E-S-A-R-A._

“ Huh? ‘Minombre’?” 

_U-R-S-O-W-H-I-T-E-I-T-S-B-L-I-N-D-I-N-G_

“ Excuse me? I’m aware I’m pretty  _ pale _ , but - ”

_M-Y-N-A-M-I-S-S-A-R-A-G-E-T-T-H-E-F-R-I-E-N-D-S-U-C-A-N-T-R-U-S-T-B-C-D-I-R-K-S-L-I-F-D-E-P-E-N-D-O-N-I-T-U-U-N-D-E-R-S-T-A-N-D_

“ Yeah! Sure, I’ll message them right now.” 

  
  


VP \---> SS: Tom come to the 2nd tallest tower on the battlefield its extremely urgent come quick!!

  
  


♞

  
  


Far later than he should have, Tom shows up at the tower. His body is weak and fatigued (Ali has taken a nap, with the help of a small dose's Diazepam since bathing Dirk, and he certainly hasn’t), but it doesn’t show in his steps. His eyes, though… they seem to be darker. His expression is blank. “What happened?” 

“Tom! So glad you showed up!” At the summit of the tower, Ali leads Tommaso down spiraling tunnels until they reach Dirk’s resting place. “Dirk’s not doing too good -- oh, this is Sara – and we wanted you here.”

Seeing them, Dirk’s tia shakes Dirk awake, humming into his ear (because if she can’t whisper things to him, she can at least do this). She signs Tom a greeting absently, though her attention is more on Dirk as he sits up. 

Tom’s foot hits the last step as he lands gracefully, already staring at Dirk. He looks utterly entranced. 

“Tom,” Ali prods, “do you know sign language?” 

His eyes flash between Sara and Ali, and he understands. _Of course,_ he signs, as well as he can with one hand.

_T-O-M,_ Dirk signs, smiling shakily, but he’s ignored. 

_How did this happen?_ Tom asks, doing his best to work around his missing hand, and Sara, beside her nephew, seems to understand, shaking her head darkly. 

_I don’t know. I found him drenched in blood – I washed it off, but the stains are there._

“ The deaf and mute,” he explains idly, still staring at Dirk, expositing for Ali, “always struck me as sad… barely being able to talk to others. I know how it feels to be alone, so I decided to learn… You know. Before all this happened.” 

_Not sad,_ Dirk signs sharply. _Different-abled_. Sara’s expression is rather bitter, her lips pursed, and suddenly Tom knows where Dirk got _that_ particular feature of his personality from. 

Aloud, Tom queries: “Dirk, who attacked you?” 

Dirk falters for a second, then grasps his chest in a fit of coughing. Once it passes: “I don’t know, not from seeing them, but, um.” He glances at Ali. “Who else in this session is untrustworthy enough for that?” 

“Anyone but us,” voices Ali. 

_Everyone,_ Tom thinks, but he decides not to say it. 

“Leaving Devon, Blitz, Navo,” Dirk decides. “Where the hell is Blitz, anyway? We know now Rose kept him alive, but no one's _heard_ from him, have they?” 

“No clue,” Ali shrugs. "But don't leave out Rory." 

Dirk gets to his feet, supported by Sara at his side, beckoning Tom nearer, and Tommaso complies. Standing there, his aunt helping him to stand, Dirk kisses Tommaso gently before having to sit down again, regaining strength. 

“Are you sure Rory has to be a suspect?” Dirk pleads, and Tommaso would be less sympathetic if he didn’t sound so damn _plaintive_. 

“ I’m sure,” says Ali -- 

“Yes,” Tom concurs. “He told me he was going to kill us all a _week_ ago, but I paid him no mind at the time.” 

Dirk nods, absorbing this. _Well, shit. You can’t tell them you tried to kill_ _yourself_ _, you’re not strong enough, but you have to head this off somehow…_

“ He, uh, tried to, you know, get, um, romantically involved with me, I think. Yesterday, or a couple days ago.” 

“ I  _ knew _ that shit was gonna happen!” Ali declaims, and Tom casually, silently moves Rory Diamond to the top of his mental hit list.

_The more people die, the fewer people you have to convince to follow you,_ says an unhelpful voice in the back of Dirk’s mind. He ignores it. 

_Blitz-D-E-V-O-N-N-A-V-O,_ Sara signs. 

“ So what’s our next plan of action? We can try to take on Devon as a team, or we can take on Rory.”  _ Sorry, _ Tom signs quickly,  _ what was that? _

“I don’t know if we should, Tom!” Dirk cries, distressed. “We shouldn’t be championing _more death!_ ” 

“We’re living in a dog-eat-dog world, Dirk. We need to kill them before they try to kill us again.” 

“That’s not _fair!_ ” Dirk insists. _Oh, Dirk, you dumbass,_ another part of him laments, and he doesn’t expend the effort to shut it up. 

“Hey,” Ali says, “as long as I’m not being relied upon to kill anyone directly, I can help with any plan.” 

_Blitz and N-A-V-O,_ Sara corrects, _why aren’t they suspects?_

_I don’t see why they would try to kill us,_ Tom informs her. _Devon and Rory are the only two who’ve showed up any murderous intent so far._

Sara nods. _Where’s the_ _coin_ _?_

The  silver juju is suddenly heavy in Tommaso’s pocket, and he curses his immense idiocy in forgetting about it. _I thought you had it._

_No…_

“ Juju?” Ali interrupts. 

“I’d forgotten you weren’t on the side quest,” Dirk says, then snickers. 

“Huh?” 

“We killed the Black Queen and got some sort of neat magical item as a quest reward.” 

“It was a coin,” Tom explains, “that, when flipped, effectively removed the most recent significant event from history.” 

“ _What?_ We could’ve used that a while ago!” 

_But no one seems to have it,_ Sara signs, and is summarily ignored. 

“ Yeah,” Tom agrees ironically, “good thing we  _ totally  _ know where it is now, Ali.”  _ You are so overplaying this, god damn, shut up, _ he thinks.

“Who had it last?” 

Sara’s eyes slide to the side. _D. You didn’t give it to anyone else, did you?_ Her nephew is entirely too trusting, and she knows it, but Dirk shakes his head. _I don’t think I had it_. 

_Maybe we forgot to take it, like a bunch of idiots,_ Tommaso suggests, and then his face drains of color. _What if Rory or Devon has it?_

_Then they’re dangerous_ , Sara confirms grimly. 

“What the fuck are you guys even discussing?!” Ali bursts.

Tom glances at her. _That means we have to attack soon, we never know when they might decide to use it._

_We need,_ says Sara, _to find the most effective way to kill them._

_I don’t want to kill anyone!_ Dirk reminds them.

Sara fixes him with a serious near-glare. _You don’t have a choice, D. Them or us._

“ You must be kidding me,” Ali says, sighing exaggeratedly. 

“They’ve got the juju,” Dirk explains. 

“Who does?” 

“I don’t _know_ , Ali! Devon, maybe…” The image of a sobbing Devon flits across Dirk’s mind. _Your fault_. 

“ Great!” Ali says. “An excuse to kill him for _good!_ This way it’ll be Just!” 

An invisible knife slices across Dirk’s leg. He crosses his other leg over it - _conceal_. _I thought you didn't want to 'champion death'? I mean, really, you're so_ loathe _to admit that you tried to – to do that – that you won't admit it? That you won't potentially save Devon and Rory's_ lives? _Maybe not Devon's, one Heir has to go, but you're going to get Rory_ killed. But his internal battle, guilt against humiliation, doesn't come to light, not here, not now. “I can’t,” he says instead. “I don’t want to do this, Tom, I’m not strong enough, I _can’t._ ” 

“Can’t what?” Ali says. 

“I’ll design it, I’ll show you how to, but if I go I’ll defend him, I’m too weak.” 

_What are you talking about, D?_

“ He’s made himself too important to me.” 

Before anyone else can react to this, Sara slaps him across the face. Hard. _Asno!_ she signs, and stalks off. 

“Dirk –” Tom puts his hands on the taller boy’s shoulders – “you can do this, okay?” He hugs him closer and whispers into his ear, “I can use magic on you if you think it’ll make it easier.” 

Dirk lets it happen, but doesn’t hug back. His voice, a whisper, wavers. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Don’t do anything stupid, you two.” 

“ Maybe,” Tom speculates, “I can use some illusion magic to make it feel like Devon’s someone…  some _ thing _ else. I can make you forget everything that happened between you and Devon. I can do whatever you want, but I won’t let him use your vulnerability to kill you, alright?” All this in that  particular,  loving whisper  of Tom's .

“I don’t –” Dirk’s nails bite into Tom’s back. “I don’t want to be this weak.” 

Tom backs off from the hug and kisses Dirk quickly, a peck on the cheek. “We’ll discuss this more later, okay?” With a step back to talk to all three: “Right now, we need to plan out what the hell we’re doing.” 

“Exactly!” Ali agrees. “Who should we go after first?” 

“Probably Devon’s our first bet,” Tommaso decides. “The quicker he’s dead, the less likely _Ali’s_ gonna die.” 

“Because he’s doomed, isn’t he?” 

“Well,” Ali contributes, “one Heir is.” 

“So where is he?” 

“At his house,” she says, “protected by his _asshole_ of a guide.” 

Dirk absorbs this with a deep slash across his chest, but he ignores it, and the pain is enough to pay off whatever switch it is that flips inside him, enough to make him feel a little less guilty, because he’s paying already. Dirk inhales slowly, breathes out. “I’m the deadliest here, but I won’t be able to carry this out, let’s consider that a given. Sara’s good with a pistol, my whole family uses firearms -- Tom, do you have anything insta-kill?” 

“I can _try_ to delete entire people. I've never successfully deleted anything on _purpose_ , though, that business with Devon was a fortunate accident..." He looks down at the stump of his arm. "Well, I say fortunate. Anyway, I’d need a lot of concentration.” 

“Then we shouldn’t rely on that. Ali, you’re mainly defense; Tom, do you have any blank strife specibi to allocate?” 

“Yes, I made quite a few in case I got the opportunity to use Devon’s own weapons against him. I never got to them, though, not enough to deplete my supply of the blank cards.”

“Are you sure I can’t be more helpful?” Ali wonders nervously.

“Do you have the nerve to kill someone?” Dirk shoots back. 

“I… I could try to.” 

Dirk waves her off. “We both know you’re lying. You will serve as protection for Tommaso. Tom, what strife specibi do you have that we can find a weapon for here in the tower?” 

“I can try!” Ali insists. “Come on, let me try to help! I _know_ I’m more than defense.” 

“Bladekind and machinegunkind,” Tom says, “and have faith in Ali.” 

“Thank you!” 

Dirk nods appreciatively. “I’m not saying you’re useless, Ali, you’re just _unbelievably valuable_ on the defensive. Tom, if you say she’ll be better on offense, I trust you with that.” 

“I know that she can fight well if we give her the chance. If she gets in trouble, I can turn her invisible, and she can run.” There is a brief lull. “Alright, so who knows where Devon actually is?” 

“At his house,” Ali says promptly. 

Dirk nods -- considers -- whistles, high and shrill in exactly the same pitch as his aunt, and one of the Dersite patrons of the tower appears. “Subject,” he says, “get me your best blade. If you have any machine guns, that would be good too.” He turns back to the other two, and only a moment later, the Dersite returns with a sword. “No guns? Oh, well.” He gestures to the Dersite’s outstretched hands. “If you would, Tom?” 

Tom grips the handle, and it vanishes into his strife deck, its captchalogue card displaying a Dersite pommel. 

“Tom,” Ali says sweetly, “could you do me a _huge_ favor?” 

“Sure.” 

“Fucking. Hit me,” she says, gesturing to her gut. “Right here. Do it.” 

Tom looks at her and grins – the first time today he’s showed any positive emotion, incidentally, other than the pleasant shock of kissing Dirk – and hits her, _hard,_ with the flat of a blade that seems to flash out of nowhere.

Ali stumbles back. “Fucking… _ow_.” She exhales. “Again.” 

_Wonder how those Heir powers would handle it if I sliced off her arm._ This dark thought is distracted by – 

“Could I have your attention?” Dirk interrupts drily. 

The Dersite begins to open a side door out of the room, but Dirk beckons him back inside. His voice takes on an oddly rhythmic, lilting sound. “By the power invested in me by his Kingship, I knight thee, Tommaso, my superior _in loco salvatoris_ , _in loco mors_.” Dirk nods, looking a little shaky. “Is that it?” The Dersite gives an affirmative. “Spread the news to the other Dersites in the tower, but this is a secret proclamation, okay? The King mustn’t know – for his own good. Remember, I am his best knight; you can trust me.” The Dersite nods and scurries off. 

“ Why, I’m honored.” _In place of a savior, in place of death…_ Tom shrugs mentally. _Unimportant._ He would've taken the position, anyway, should Dirk die – _something that will under no circumstances be allowed_ , naturally – which means that, in this context, the declaration of faith is nothing to him. Swinging behind Ali, a shadowy weapon sweeps her feet from under her. 

“OW!” She falls flat on her ass. “Again.” 

“Just how badly do you want me to injure you?” 

“ Tom,” Dirk says, vaguely irritated that no one is paying attention to his theatrics. “What I just did is knight you my superior  _ in loco mors _ \- in the event of my death, you take my position, okay? That means all the Dersites will obey you then –”

“ Injure me enough for me to get  _ stronger! _ ”

“– hopefully you and Rory can reach an agreement by then, being his highest knight’ll make the game a little easier for you.” 

Tommaso looks even more stern, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes intense. “That’s _not_ going to happen, Dirk. I’d die before I let anyone lay a finger on you again, got that?” At that moment, dark metal removes Ali’s pinky and ring fingers from her left hand. 

“FUCK!” Ali spits, entirely ignored by the lovers. 

Dirk blinks and the composure he set up -- _to ignore your guilt_ , Rose's voice hisses in his mind, _to doom your friend_ – to plan this cracks a little. “Th – Thank you, Tom.” 

“ A – Again!” Ali demands.

“Regenerate your missing fingers, first.” 

“Huh?” She closes her eyes; her face scrunches up. After only a few seconds, concentrated Hope fills the space left, and – “Well… I’ll be damned.” 

Tom nods. _I wasn’t sure that was even possible_. 

The Heir’s arm falls off.

Dirk goes back to his cell phone. 

“ JESUS CHRIST –”

(Dirk increases the volume of the Tetris theme.)

“HA! It’s back, is that all you got?” 

Tom cuts off both arms at once. (His superior smirk is quickly hidden by a more serious look, and no one else notices.) Within thirty seconds, both are replaced. 

“Ali,” Tommaso says, all smiles, “not even Devon was able to do that.”

“He couldn’t? Really?” 

“Remember? When I cut off his hand, he had to run away.” 

“That’s right… Don’t accidentally kill me, alright?” 

“No promises~” 

She stays silent for a moment. Then, “Again.” 

This time, Tom goes invisible before he _spears her through the abdomen_. “Oh,” Ali says faintly, blood rushing in her ears. 

Dirk obtains +1 extra life in his dungeon crawler. Score. 

“ LMAO JK that all you got?” she says derisively, regenerating cockily. 

“ Without decapitating you, yes,” Tommaso answers calmly, returning to the realm of visible light with composure and a sheathed sword.  (Blood drips from the pommel.)  “I think we should stop for now; this is risky and unhealthy…”  _ ...for my mental health. _

“ Just one more time! Give me all you got, you pansy.” 

“Are you sure you can handle that?” He really _is_ curious whether she can regenerate after being _decapitated_ , but he really would rather not risk it. 

_ It’d be so fun, though…  _ _ Come on, Tom, for  _ science!

_ That is  _ so  _ not what science is about. _

_Who cares?!_

“ Who _knows_ whether I can 'handle it'?! Let’s find out!” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory awakens in a sweater pile, sweaty and in a pile. Of limbs. He has got to shake this sweater addiction. _Damn those knitted temptresses…_ Oh, a new message from Dirk. The typing style is… rather different, but it’s always possible that he’s just mixing things up. 

  


DS \---> ER: You’re going to have to be a little more specific, dear. <>

ER \---> DS: that mustve been my tia. were on the battlefield, dont come here, ill come to you. where are you???

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Wait,” Tommaso laughs, “you’re _god-tier!_ What am I saying? It doesn’t _matter_ if you can survive it!” 

“HIT ME!” 

Tommaso hits her. He hits her head clean off. 

Sadistic bastard, this is really getting out of hand. But addiction is a powerful thing. 

Ali’s body falls to the floor. 

  
  


The **Heir** of **Hope** is now **dead**!

  
  


“ Ali?” Dirk looks up. 

“She’ll be okay,” Tom assures. “I doubt that was Heroic.” 

  
  


DS \---> ER: I’m at Ali’s house right now. I stole one of her sweaters but it was really ugly and bright red anyway so I’m sure she won’t miss it! I bedazzled it and now it’s perfect! So how was your day? :D

  
  


Tommaso considers whether or not trying to rejuvenate the thirteen-year-old with dark magic would be a turn for the worse in this situation. _I could try it… I’d rather wait, though._ He’ll let the god-tier fuckery handle it. 

Dirk, of course, is too preoccupied slipping out the servants’ door in the side of the chamber to notice. 

  
  


ER \---> DS: we need to talk about some stuff... also whats the deal with the diamond emoji, i havent seen that one before.

  
  


Ali’s blood flashes many dazzling colors as… 

  
  


The **Heir** of **Hope** is now **resurrected**!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk kicks off from the battlefield, though his flying is a tad beneath normal speed, his turns a bit slow. 

  
  


DS \---> ER: My puppies tell me it’s the symbol for moirails! I’m pretty sure they’re based off card suits. <3 is for matesprits, <3< is for kismesii, o8< is for auspistices and <> is for moirails!

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“You died,” Tommaso informs her, poking at her abdomen. “God-tier resurrected, so I’m guessing you couldn’t have regenerated using your powers that way.” 

“You killed me?! I thought I said no killing!” 

  
  


ER \---> DS: how flattering i guess. 

DS \---> ER: What do you mean by that :?

  
  


“No, you said ‘Hit me with your best shot!’ To be fair, _I_ didn’t think you would _die_ by that.” 

“I said not to kill me _before_ I said that and you fucking _chopped off my head!_ Of course I was gonna die.” She _thud_ s onto the stone floor, groaning. 

  
  


ER \---> DS: honestly im not sure whats happening and i need to talk to you. 

ER \---> DS: youre inside?

DS \---> ER: In her bedroom. I made a clothing pile/fort.

  
  


“I literally asked your permission to chop off your head. You said yes. I’m sorry, okay?” Jeez, Ali. Great job taking the ‘laughter’ _out_ of ‘slaughter’. 

“Fine. Just – if I get overconfident, take me down a peg, alright?” 

"I think I just did." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk touches down on Ali’s rooftop and, with an expression that can only be expressed adequately as :/, cuts a hole in Ali’s roof. _Doors are for people with no imagination_. God-tier powers are the fuckin’ bomb. 

Sure enough, Rory pokes his head out of a clothing pile. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Anyway," Tom continues, "I think you’re as ready as you’ll ever be defensively; now, let’s work on offense.” 

“ Gotcha. So, weapon or whooshy powers?” 

“How do you fight best? Melee? Range?” 

“I’ve never really fought anybody before. I mean, I have my bow, but I don't really hunt _people_ often...” 

“Well, let’s at least TRY to weaponize your powers… How will that even work dIRK COME HERE HOW DO HEIRS WORK. THE GODS ONLY TOLD ME ABOUT MY OWn he's not here is he.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk floats down beside Rory, his heart suddenly heavier. “How are you, Rory?” 

“I’m good! Do you wanna see my sweater?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom makes an indescribable noise born presumably of exasperation (though it could’ve been anything, really). 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **private messaging entropicRelativity [ER]**!

  


SS \---> ER: DIRK HOW DO HEIRS WORK

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk’s phone buzzes, but he gives it only a cursory glance.

One sharp tooth draws blood from his lip. 

Back at the ranch, Rory is 200% unaware of any drama besides Mr. Card.

“Rory, I think maybe you should go into hiding…” 

“How come?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“He’s not responding, is he?” 

Tom just looks at her, their eyes meeting in simultaneous, rending realization. “He’s not…” 

“He is.” 

“ _Fuuuuuuuuuuck_ , but he’s the _enemy_ why does he _do_ this to me.” 

"Sara is gonna _kill_ him." 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk swallows, with difficulty. “I – I tried to…” He breathes, in and out. “Kill myself. The other night.” 

Rory’s eyes fly open, and he tries to climb out of the pile, but trips and falls flat on his face, short of his mark. He just looks up at Dirk. “Jesus Christ,” he says softly, his voice warm and melodious, “are you alright?” 

“I mean… I didn’t do it, I couldn’t. But my aunt found me and, um, she thinks someone else attacked me. And she started pulling together everyone _else_ …” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

"Sara won't know, I should think."

“Wanna just try it with weapons first?” Ali suggests. 

“ Alright,  fine, I'll deal with it later – you have bowkind? Hm.”  _ How to make a bow more… Hope-y? _

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Oh,” Rory says, putting two and two together.

Cringing, Dirk nods. “Tom thinks either you or Devon. And I really like him, I don’t really want anyone else to die…” Dirk hesitates. “Moirails are supposed to tell each other things, right?” 

“Of course,” Rory says, and gently he begins to stroke the back of Dirk’s neck. 

“Tom said that if, um, if I was having trouble thinking about, killing…” Dirk takes a moment to breathe. “Killing… Devon, he could make me… think different things about him. He wanted to change my memories around so that I wouldn’t have so much – so much trouble…” Unconsciously, Dirk frowns. “He’s right, I think. I don’t want to be so weak.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Isn’t a bow kinda… _lame_ _?_ ” Ali complains. "I mean, it's my best weapon, but I'm _bored_." 

“ What strife specibi do you have other than that?” 

“I dunno. I could always allocate something new.” 

“I mean, I have blank cards, so you could find something else you like to use. In fact, you _should_ , if you think your skill might improve, or if it'll give us a chance to surprise them.” 

“That makes sense. Devon's been hunting with me before. Do you suggest anything?” 

“I don’t know,” Tommaso muses, “lately I’ve been using magic more than anything.” 

“Fuck. I think I have an axe in my garage?” 

“Then go for that, I guess. You sure close range is good for you?” 

“I don’t know! That’s the point!” 

The Heir and the Mage, uh… 

…" _ train" _ .

Tommaso beats her up. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Well, if that’s what you really want, then I support your decision. Devon needs to be out of the picture if we’re ever going to stop all the conflict in this session. Him and his sprite caused all this, I’m pretty sure, so if you want to forget him, or alter your memories, then go for it. As long as Tom doesn’t screw up and make you worse or some mindless slave or something, because if he does, I’m gonna punch him in the dick.” 

Dirk nods. “Yes, that’s… that’s what I thought, that’s good. Um, you should probably find someplace to go.” He stands, composing himself, and bows. “And I am ready to assist as needed, my liege.” 

“Where should I _hide?!_ I need supplies…” Rory runs his MMC (memorized mental checklist). “Food, water, clothing,” he says, captchaloguing approximately one-half of Ali’s dresser (and allocating a pair of stilettos to an obscure strife specibus), “medical supplies, company – I’ll bring a dog – toilet paper…” He rushes downstairs for a quick fridge / bathroom x2 combo raid,  and Dirk follows. 

“I don’t think you actually need food to survive anymore,” Dirk reminds him. "Also, you already have a functional god-tier outfit, so the clothes are kind of unnecessary..." 

“Better safe than sorry.” 

“Do you need defense? I can reassign some Dersites from the tower, since you aren’t in contact with many of them at the moment. They’ve become a little more open to my orders since I, um. They've become a little more open to my orders.”

"Since you _what_ , Dirk?" 

"I mean, I kind of destroyed a lot of the architecture in their tower. Also, they saw me bleed, like, enough to kill around ten adult carapacians and still get up afterward, and I'm not entirely sure they know how the whole god-tier thing works." 

"Dr. Woofclaw does." 

"Well, most of them aren't that educated." 

“What were we talking about? I think I’m fine, I’ve got my bones; more people will just make my hiding place more obvious.” 

Dirk nods. “How long do you think you’ll need to get ready? Should I carry anything?” 

“I’ll captchalogue it all, give me five minutes.” Then his eyes go wide. “MY BEDAZZLER!” Rory dashes upstairs.

Dirk grins as the King returns, bedazzler in hand. “Good luck, my lord. I’ll be back on Skaia – the second highest Dersite tower. I’ll message you when it’s safe.” 

“Gotcha. Wait, shouldn’t we warn the others? Won’t they be coming after them as well? Or did they all show up and me and Devon were the only ones absent?” 

“Ali and Tom are back on the tower; Navo and Blitz are innocent, they think; you and Devon are suspects. Anything else you need to know?” 

“Why am I a suspect? I’m your moirail.” 

“I didn’t think to tell them that, I don’t think they know what it means. I mean, _I_ hardly know what it means.” 

“Oh. I’m glad Navo is safe, by the way. Also, I’m pretty sure my brother is dead, so." 

"Again?" 

"Why don’t you just tell them the truth? And then I won’t have to hide.” 

Dirk takes it in. “I could try that.” He pauses. “I’ll get you the results.” 

“You can message me at any time, I’m gonna go hide now anyway. But – something to remember me by.” Rory pulls the bedazzler from his back pocket, seizes Dirk’s Princely god-tier shirt, and bedazzles a diamond onto the area covering the middle of his back, in between the sharp shoulder blades. 

Dirk smiles, even though it's wide and crooked and looks wrong on his thin face. “Thanks.” He steps outside of the door and sets off again for Skaia. 

13 13


	23. Only Trust Your Heart

#  Monday, November 16, 2015: Part Two

“ ...I’ve left Rory in my house for  _ far _ too long,” Ali says, excusing herself from Tommaso’s training. “I’ll be back.” She doesn’t actually wait for a salutation before speeding away, up and up and up the Dersite stairs to the summit of the tower.

No more than half a minute later, making her landing on LOAAM, she notices a new hole in the roof. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Falling through (and scraping her arm on the side – _god_ , she wishes she were better at flying), the clothing pile left by a certain Bard is easy to see. It's only about half of her clothes, but her closet and drawers are hanging wide open, mostly empty… “ _Rory_. What the _fuck_ did you _do?_ ” she laments rhetorically, but it is too late. A trail of carnage has been left to find, the perpetrator having retreated to his cave of whimsy in his quest to bedazzle. 

“ I swear to god,” she mutters, digging through her clothes with a  certain, Timberlake-induced  frenzy, “if he touched that  _ fucking _ sweater – OH,” she says, reaching the bottom of the pile, “OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” Trudging downstairs: “I  _ told _ him not to touch it! I fucking  _ knew _ it!” She freezes. The fridge.  _ Oh no. _

The refrigerator door creaks open, shelves hanging bare. “RORY!” She slams the door shut and stomps upstairs. Surely he couldn’t have done _too_ much damage… Yes, that’s it: it looks worse than it is… 

Her sense of abject doom reproducing in her tummy like terrible, horny rabbits, she retrieves a bright blue sweater. 

It’s covered in rhinestones.

“Oh, Jesus, he found the bedazzler.”

She can only hear her own voice vaguely, as though from far away, through all the terrible trauma that this day has held. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In an undisclosed location, Rory retrieves his newfound clothes pile in a lump of cloth.

_Wait_ … 

Could it be? 

It _is_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ He better not have stolen my mom’s sweater,” she mutters, searching through the remaining clothing. “That was my _last memento_ – oh, dear god.” Ali straightens up, her hair a frenzied mess, the color draining from her face. “What if he stole my Justin Timberlake shirt?” 

Ali starts to cry. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ Begone, foul panty demon,” Rory says calmly as the undergarments burn. _Safe._

  
  


VP \---> ER: Hey Dirk? 

VP \---> ER: You doing okay? 

ER \---> VP: why wouldnt i be???

  
  


SS \---> ER: dirk we need to talk

SS \---> ER: ill be at my house

SS \---> ER: see you soon!

SS \---> ER: <3

  
  


VP \---> ER: It’s just that the last time I saw you, Sara had me help bathe you. 

VP \---> ER: Would a healthy person need to be bathed, Dirk? 

ER \---> VP: listen im going to lonab okay??? ill see you around. 

  
  


ER \---> SS: ill see you there tom. <3

  
  


VP \---> ER: You better check in later. On your own. 

ER \---> VP: what do you mean on my own???

VP \---> ER: Without me messaging you first.

ER \---> VP: dont count on it. 

VP \---> ER: Then you better respond immediately the next time I message you! None of this elusive BS alrighty? 

ER \---> VP: elusive??? please!! i am NOT elusive.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom stands in front of his home, absorbing the tranquil silence formed by his dark land. The Grimdark radiates from him more precisely, less erratically here (and still transparent, visible only to him, Void's misdirection throwing away all other gazes). It's concentrated to the point that it looks like he’s being suffocated by it, but if he is, he doesn’t notice. Patiently, Tommaso waits for Dirk to arrive, pondering his position. Silently, he asks the Dark Gods for their assistance. 

  
  


VP \---> ER: You’re always flying from place to place, hard to track down, there was that one period where no one knew where you were??

ER \---> VP: thats more navos thing than mine, shes the one that disappeared off chat in the middle of the chain

  


Meanwhile: 

To say that LONAB is dark would be an understatement, quite like espousing the sentiment that the multiverse is big or that molten diamond is hot. Infinity is a flat plane in that infinity is simply incomprehensible; a billion or so cubic miles of space can be imagined, but _infinite_ space? Simply not possible. And LONAB is dark in the same way that the multiverse is big. There is just no way possible, say the best scientists of our time, to accurately inform an audience of just how dark LONAB is. 

That being said, LONAB is dark. 

  
  


ER \---> SS: im here. is there a landmark i can use???

SS \---> ER: my house has some light, although its pretty dim

SS \---> ER: hopefully should stick out like a sore thumb

  
  


Like most lands, it’s also only the size of a small moon, and in this way it is big in the same way that autumn (generally speaking) is aesthetically pleasing: exactly the way one would expect, and pleasing in its reliability.

Dirk floats down to the ground of LONAB just before Tommaso’s home, although he isn’t able to divine its substance. Squinting at a silhouette against the dim electric lights, “Tom?” 

“Dirk! Come in!” As he speaks, Tommaso’s silhouette apparently _flickers_ , his features discernible for a hot second. As the door squeaks open, it, too, is a little brighter. “This land seems to make things visible based on the amount of noise it makes. So, have you decided what you wanted to do with your memories?” 

Dirk’s eyes widen. “Um – somehow I guess I just figured you had something in mind, I’m sorry, what – what would you suggest?” Dirk’s head drops momentarily and he laughs, shrill and grinding. “Sorry, I don’t want to lean on you, do I need to figure it out myself instead?” 

“Oh, no, don’t worry, I already had a couple of ideas… I just wanted your assurance. I’ll just take away your memories of our opponents, so that you can defeat them before they try to kill us!” Inside, Tommaso flips through a book left on the living room floor faster than he can read, clearly taking none of it in. “Sound good, or do you want me to do something else?” 

“I don’t know,” Dirk mutters. His eyes are downcast, he’s playing with his hands, he’s not looking at Tom. “I’m… I’m tired of all of this distrust, of being paranoid and disloyal, it’s not helping anything.” His voice grows quiet. “I can trust you. Can you do anything to make sure I keep that?” 

“Of course I can!” Tom smiles and closes his book, then drops it back in exactly the same spot. “Alright, so, sit on the couch and get comfortable.” 

Dirk moves over to the couch, sitting tentatively, his features stiff, exuding anxiety. After a moment of grinding teeth and just sitting there he turns and lies down, looking up at Tom, his expression becoming a little less sharp as he forces himself to relax. “I – I love you.” 

Tom sits above him in his chair, smiling sweetly down at Dirk. _I’m making the best choice for you, my darling._ “ I love you too, Dirk,” he says, caressing the boy’s face - “Now, go to sleep.” With a snap of his fingers and a snap of his Void, the Prince sleeps. His features aren’t quite as hard or troubled – he doesn’t scowl so much, it’s not conscious, not as angry – but he does frown, however slightly. Feeling Dirk’s forehead, probing, composing himself, Tom concentrates.

After a moment, Tommaso turns Dirk’s head to face him and opens his eyes, staring into them. “You never had any relations with Devon,” he says in a smooth, calming voice that would send shivers up Dirk’s spine if he were hearing them on a more conscious level. “He is the enemy, and shall die. You will not allow him to harm me in any way and will put yourself in harm’s way before you do. You never had any relations with Rory. He is a monster that must be destroyed for us to succeed and create a new life together where we will live happily forever after. You never had any relations with Navo. She is neutral, but you will kill her if I say so. I am the only one you love and will be capable of loving, and you will prioritize my sake over your own. However, you shall stay alive so that we can live in eternal love. You will not consciously remember me ordering any of this. You may now wake up.” Tom kisses Dirk as his boyfriend stirs. “Good morning, love! How was your nap?” 

Dirk sits up, one palm rubbing incessantly against his temple. It’s funny: his expressions, they’re softer now than they were before. He smiles (and naturally it looks lopsided and wrong but that’s alright). “I kinda have a headache,” he says. “Thank you.” 

“I’ll go make some hot chocolate, have you talked to Ali lately?” 

“Um, yeah, she said… Give me a second, I have to check in with her.” Dirk doesn’t take out his phone for a moment, though, preferring to just stare at Tom, his eyes narrowed. It’s not that he’s annoyed; intrigued, rather – it’s as though he’s trying to figure out a mystery that he’d be happy with even if he never solved it completely. More than he’s ever been, Dirk is enamored. 

He blinks and retrieves his mobile. 

Tom hums to himself as he stands and boils some water in the kitchen. _This was…_ so _worth it_. “Actually, let me do it. I have some things to tell her as well.” Extending his hand, requesting Dirk’s phone, Tom smiles dazzlingly. 

Dirk hands it over, his hand brushing against Tom’s for a moment longer than is strictly necessary. Tom flops down next to him and holds Dirk with his right hand as his left types, just out of sight of Dirk. (Dirk smiles at that.) 

  
  


ER \---> VP: ali this is tom I just altered dirks memory with his permission

ER \---> VP: i need you to not mention devon, rory, nor navo, as it might break his sanity

ER \---> VP: im going to delete his conversations with them, as well as these messages

VP \---> ER: What??

VP \---> ER: He let you do something like that? 

VP \---> ER: I can’t even mention half of the people in this session???

ER \---> VP: yes sorry but he requested me to do it like that

ER \---> VP: if we want to stand a chance against devon, we need to make sure hes able to fight

ER \---> VP: dont worry though, im careful

ER \---> VP: ill let myself die before I let anything happen to dirk

VP \---> ER: You’re sure? 

VP \---> ER: Dirk’s a fragile kid, y’know. 

VP \---> ER: this could potentially be either really good or extremely bad. 

  
  


Wriggling out of Tom’s grasp, Dirk notices the boiling water; he opens a cupboard. There is probably something inside it, but that something is not chocolate mix. 

  
  


ER \---> VP: trust me, I know what im doing

ER \---> VP: dont talk about those three again, at all, I don’t know how hell react

ER \---> VP: but I know that he can kill devon right now

VP \---> ER: I get Devon’s gotta die

VP \---> ER: But isn’t this a bit harsh? 

VP \---> ER: He really did nothing wrong. 

ER \---> VP: are you kidding?

ER \---> VP: he’s an almost unstoppable force that can kill us whenever he pleases. he just tried to kill dirk, remember? dirk didn’t want to remember being with him so that he wouldn’t show him mercy and spare him. 

ER \---> VP: devon is a murderer. 

  
  


Dirk gives up and just pours himself a cup of hot water. 

  
  


VP \---> ER: fine. 

VP \---> ER: Is the plan still to throw him into the guide? 

VP \---> ER: Can we get that out of my living room please? 

ER \---> VP: if you want to kill him that way then go ahead, but im personally itching for a rematch

VP \---> ER: That way no blood would spill, though. 

ER \---> VP: oh shit gtg, I better delete all the messages I have to

VP \---> ER: WAIT!

ER \---> VP: well talk about it later bye!

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **no longer private messaging vividParadox [VP]**!  [12:17PM]

  


VP \---> ER: Asshole!

  


Error. 

  
  


Back on the couch, Dirk plays with a strand of Tom’s hair in the back, absently rubbing it betwixt pale fingers as he sips his, uh, water. 

Beside him, and unbeknownst to him, Tommaso deletes Dirk’s conversations with Rory, Devon and Navo. _There, the evidence is gone_. “Here’s your phone back, honey…” He pauses and glances into the mug. “Did you just give up and decide to get yourself water?” 

Dirk stares off into the distance for a length of time immeasurable in circumstantial simultaneity, and yet only a couple seconds long in temporal duration. He turns to Tommaso. “Settle for as little as possible, my love, and you get pleasantly surprised.” 

_Dirk is a little more fond of me than he was before,_ Tom considers without thinking about it, and then mentally kicks himself. _Which is exactly what should be happening, obviously! Ali won't notice anything different, right? He looks so much better this way, so much more_ comfortable _, she might notice that. Will she hold it against me, if Dirk looks happier?_ _If_ _I’m able to keep Dirk away from Ali for long enough, maybe she won’t think that_ _it's_ _because of memory altering._ But… is it? Not even Tom is sure, at this point, Dirk’s been known to be completely submissive, loyal to the people he cares for… _Maybe I didn’t do this_. _Anyway_ – he kisses Dirk quickly. “You’re _helpless_."  (The shadowy laughter of Dark Gods crackles in his mind.) "Here, I’ll make the hot chocolate.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

By the warm panty-fire, Rory eats Ali’s hard-won foodstuffs. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **private messaging derseSovereign [DS]**!  [12:19PM]

  
  


VP \---> DS: Rory, why are half of my clothes gone??

DS \---> VP: Dirk ate them.

VP \---> DS: Dirk hasn’t been to my house long enough to take them. So where are half of my clothes??

DS \---> VP: What can I say, Dirk’s appetite for the softest of cloths is brutal and unstoppable. He devours twelve shirts in the space of time it takes to flip you off. He mows down lines of jeans before I can say the word “bedazzler.” Someone needs to end his reign of terror.

VP \---> DS: Fuck. 

DS \---> VP: Incidentally, that’s what I bedazzled onto my new sweater. “FUCK OFF,” in large, shiny letters. I love it. 

VP \---> DS: WHICH SWEATER

DS \---> VP: The red one. 

DS \---> VP: Is that a problem? 

VP \---> DS: YES! I liked that sweater!

VP \---> DS: And why is half of my underwear gone?

DS \---> VP: That was an accident. If it’s any consolation, I don’t have it any more. 

VP \---> DS: What could you have done with them? 

DS \---> VP: I was cold, Ali. I needed a fire.

VP \---> DS: YOU BURNED MY UNDERWEAR?

DS \---> VP: Not like you’ll need em. God Tier threads are comfy as hell, especially if you go commando. And they never get dirty. 

VP \---> DS: It’s a matter of principle, Rory. 

VP \---> DS: What other clothes do you have? 

DS \---> VP: Couple shirts, few pants, scarves, my sweater, this one shirt with this weird guy on it, bras (i also burned them sorry) and a lot of socks. Too many socks. 

VP \---> DS: Can you not go around burning clothes? I happen to need those bras, you prick. 

DS \---> VP: Well, I’m not gonna be touching ANYONE’S clothes ever again. I’m in hiding so YOU LOT don’t KILL ME. 

VP \---> DS: Wasnt originally planning on it

DS \---> VP: Why is everyone in this session an asshole? This is including me, by the way. 

VP \---> DS: I’m not an asshole!

VP \---> DS: Name one time, DURING THE GAME, when I was an asshole!

DS \---> VP: When you were following me around on my castle with that cryptic “game” bee ess.

VP \---> DS: That’s not being an asshole. If anything, it’s being annoying. 

DS \---> VP: Same thing! What about the GENOCIDE, Ali! The GENOCIDE!

VP \---> DS: That was pre-game! Doesn’t count!

DS \---> VP: Are you saying if I stabbed someone before the game and then became Mr Sunshine And Rainbows I wouldn’t be an asshole???

VP \---> DS: I just said to give me an in game example

DS \---> VP: We’re all assholes. We live in Assholeville, Asshollia, the United States of Asshole. 

VP \---> DS: Fine. We’re all assholes. Happy? 

DS \---> VP: No, because I’m an asshole.

VP \---> DS: No you’re not. 

DS \---> VP: Aren’t I? 

VP \---> DS: Not entirely

DS \---> VP: Wow, I’m actually being COMPLIMENTED for once. 

VP \---> DS: You’re a good kid, Rory, but sometimes you just Fuck things up. 

VP \---> DS: It’s not your fault. 

DS \---> VP: I don’t know whether to be happy or absolutely offended. 

VP \---> DS: I was trying to be nice, btw. Wasn’t trying to offend you. 

DS \---> VP: Poor word choice. 

VP \---> DS: I am the definition of poor word choice. 

DS \---> VP: Sorry for stealing your food. And your clothes. 

VP \---> DS: It’s alright. I forgive you. 

VP \---> DS: shit happens. 

DS \---> VP: This is all so fucked up, you know? 

DS \---> VP: I’m fourteen, Ali, and I’m in hiding from people who want to kill me. Teenagers, kids, are trying to kill other kids. What happened to us? 

VP \---> DS: I wonder the same thing. 

DS \---> VP: I just wanted to play with cute dogs and now I’m meant to be the big bad. You have to kill me to become the GODS of a new universe. I’m scared. I don’t want to die. 

VP \---> DS: Devon has to die. You don’t. Who told you that? 

DS \---> VP: I’m the King, aren’t I? You’re supposed to kill the King... 

VP \---> DS: The game controlled King. That King is dead. You simply took over his job. For all the game knows, he’s dead. 

DS \---> VP: Then why hasn’t the Game given us our Ultimate Prize, yet? 

VP \---> DS: I’m... Not sure? 

DS \---> VP: It’s recognized me as his successor.

VP \---> DS: No... That’s not how it works. We don’t have to kill you, Rory. Don’t worry. 

DS \---> VP: Good, because I plan on marrying rich and living in a mansion with my 10000 dogs and I can’t do that if I’m dead. 

VP \---> DS: I’m glad. 

VP \---> DS: What do you think comes after the game? 

VP \---> DS: since earth was destroyed and all

DS \---> VP: Maybe a new Earth? 

VP \---> DS: Hopefully

DS \---> VP: Maybe we’ll get to create an entirely new race. 

VP \---> DS: Tommaso keeps talking about the "new universe" we'll create. 

VP \---> DS: That’d be odd. Where would we live? With the species? 

DS \---> VP: We could rule as gods. 

VP \---> DS: That’s a little over the top. 

DS \---> VP: We created the universe. Aren’t we meant to become gods? We’re already god-tier. 

DS \---> VP: GOD-tier. 

VP \---> DS: Yeah, I suppose. This game is fucked up though. Killing everyone is so horrible. 

VP \---> DS: Hey, quick question. 

VP \---> DS: You remember that kernelsprite in my living room? 

DS \---> VP: No??? 

VP \---> DS: Hm. 

VP \---> DS: Well, rose somehow got killed or something? 

VP \---> DS: After he became a guide, I mean. 

VP \---> DS: which left an empty kernelsprite. 

VP \---> DS: Dirk said that jumping into the kernelsprite is relatively painless and counts as a death by the game standards. 

VP \---> DS: I was originally thinking about jumping into the guide myself

VP \---> DS: The Kernelsprite I mean

VP \---> DS: The rules say an heir must die. Not specifically Devon. 

VP \---> DS: I thought it would have been better than trying to kill Devon and him putting up a fight. 

DS \---> VP: Devon should have never been in this session. I’m sorry for bringing him in. 

VP \---> DS: It’s alright. It’s in the past. What’s done is done and we have to deal with what we have. 

DS \---> VP: I think Tommaso should probably also be subdued before he hurts anyone. That is, if my theory is correct. 

VP \---> DS: So who’s on our hitlist then??

DS \---> VP: Not hitlist. Just ‘knock out until we beat the game’ list. I don’t think we need more murders. First priority is Devon, who we actually need to kill, then Tommaso, so he can’t hurt anyone. 

DS \---> VP: I am a master tactician. 

VP \---> DS: Certainly. 

VP \---> DS: Also, you’re technically on this list as well, being the king and all. 

DS \---> VP: I’m gonna abdicate, honestly. Which brings us to Jack. 

VP \---> DS: I don’t think you can do that. 

DS \---> VP: I don’t actually have the Black scepter. Spades Slick does. I’m not even the King, probably. Which means Slick is, and that’s worse. 

VP \---> DS: How powerful is jack exactly? 

DS \---> VP: Really Fucking Powerful™.

VP \---> DS: Fuck. How are we gonna fight him? 

VP \---> DS: Well, how are the offensive classes gonna fight him? 

DS \---> VP: Maybe Dirk can just cut his arms off so he can’t grab the scepter? 

VP \---> DS: Perhaps. Seems reasonable enough. 

DS \---> VP: Pretty good plan, if you ask me. 

VP \---> DS: Isn’t Dirk just a little too overpowered? Like almost dangerously? 

DS \---> VP: Please. We have someone who can crush souls, someone who can separate people’s atoms, someone who I’m pretty sure is the definition of yandere, someone who can steal lives, weird impenetrable invulnerable hope bs girl, and whatever the fuck Devon does. Plus my (presumably) dead brother. 

VP \---> DS: I'm pretty sure he's not dead. Dirk talks about that a lot. 

DS \---> VP: Whatever. My point is we're all overpowered. 

VP \---> DS: Weird hope bs girl has no known attacks. I can run away, so what? I’m p damn useless power-wise if you ask me. 

DS \---> VP: Get a chainsaw or something. 

VP \---> DS: That shit’s too heavy. I'm working with Tom, I was just with him a little bit ago, I really need to learn to fight but everyone else is so preoccupied. 

DS \---> VP: I only know how to fight telekinetically with my bones. 

VP \---> DS: still effective

DS \---> VP: I could teach you some magic? 

VP \---> DS: I don’t think I’d be good at it. 

DS \---> VP: Why not? 

VP \---> DS: I can hardly do my easiest power. It’d be really difficult. 

DS \---> VP: Get a gun or something then.

VP \---> DS: Do you have a gun? People don’t just have guns lying around. 

DS \---> VP: Doesn’t Tommaso or someone use machinegunkind? 

VP \---> DS: I think that's Dirk

VP \---> DS: I'm not sure how I feel about Tommaso anymore

VP \---> DS: I think around him I should just act like nothing’s wrong. I mean, it isn’t, but then this whole thing happened with Dirk in a tower and they aren't really including me in the planning like they're making sure I know what's going on but I'm not really contributing

VP \---> DS: Also, isn't it kind of a given at this point that anyone dating Dirk is probably the antagonist of the gamespace as long as that's happening? 

DS \---> VP: I take offense to that. 

DS \---> VP: Weren't you the one who gave the go-ahead for Navo to try and kill Dirk in the first place, when they were dating? 

VP \---> DS: Thats not important

DS \---> VP: Okay. 

DS \---> VP: Do you want your clothes back when I go out of hiding? I bedazzled most of them but I left a few t-shirts behind. Like the one with Jason Tumblrlake or whatever his name was. 

VP \---> DS: uh

VP \---> DS: That’s uh

VP \---> DS: That shirts not mine.

DS \---> VP: So should I burn it then or? 

VP \---> DS: NO DONT BURN IT

DS \---> VP: I don’t even know who the guy is, Ali. Your crush on Jason Tumblrlake is a safe secret with me. 

VP \---> DS: It’s a really old shirt shut the fuck up you smug prepubescent boy

DS \---> VP: I’m 14, Ali. I’m undergoing puberty. I have voice cracks and acne and pubic hair and everything so shut the fuck up. 

DS \---> VP: Anyway, goodnight. I’m going to bed. 

VP \---> DS: Night

DS \---> VP: Get rekt.

DS \---> VP: <?

VP \---> DS: <3<

  
  


**vividParadox** **[VP]** is now **Offline!** [12:54PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom and Dirk are probably still having hot chocolate. 

It does seem to you, the reader, the most likely course. 

The question is whether, in this session, the most _likely_ thing is what is actually, when considering the history of this timeline relevant to odds, most likely _effectively_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk sips his hot chocolate contentedly, his hand hot against Tom’s under the blanket. The black and white images on the screen flicker as Dirk grins absently, every couple of minutes repositioning his head on Tom’s chest. 

Silently, Tom watches the movie, enjoying this intimacy.  He would have never _imagined_ that this could be happening the previous week. 

It’s _The Wizard of Oz_ – some weird, hipster-y edition in which the color change has been counteracted so that both the worlds of Kansas and Dorothy’s dream are in black and white. 

Dirk stretches to kiss Tom’s neck gently, his eyes full of an almost alien adoration, then settles back into watching, suppressing a low chuckle. 

“ Honey, I think we should see the others. We still need to take Devon down before he can hurt anyone.” The words are almost a struggle – _I wish we could stay like this forever_ – but he wants to see Devon’s corpse, and as this would grant security to his more long-term fantasies… 

“ Quite right,” Dirk murmurs, rubbing his thumb against Tom’s palm. “Do you know where he is?” 

“We have a good idea, but we need to plan with Ali. I suspect she still needs training, no offense to her.” 

Dirk frowns. “Her abilities _are_ supbar. On the other hand, she makes an incredibly effective shield – with her on the defensive front and myself attacking, even an Heir of Light would have trouble winning, I would submit. Should we get her over here to strategize?” 

“Ah, yes, that would be a good idea!” Tom kisses Dirk’s forehead.

Dirk’s grin can’t possibly grow wider. “Thank you, my love! I’ll message her.” He breaks from Tom briefly to remove his phone from his Prince-tier pocket. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

In her Dersite chambers, the Thief of Life awakens for the last time. 

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging vividParadox [VP]**! [12:57PM]

  
  


ER \---> VP: can you come over to lonab??? weve got strategizing to do!! ;););)

VP \---> ER: Uh sure

VP \---> ER: You doing alright? You seem out of it

ER \---> VP: omg

ER \---> VP: ali trust me, im doing GREAT. 

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **no longer private messaging vividParadox [VP]**! [12:59PM]

  
  


♞

  


Dirk slips out of bed, one hand lingering across Tom’s chest. “I’m going to go figure out where I left the lower half of this outfit.” He pauses – “I love you, beauty –” before wandering out of the room in search of his Princely pants. 

Tom starts to laugh. “Ha ha ha,” he chuckles. “Love you too, I’ll be waiting~”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

_That was… not reassuring._ Trying to put it out of her mind, Ali sets off for LONAB. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo sits up (not for the last time). “Ugh, how long was I asleep?” 

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **private messaging vividParadox [VP]**! [3:02PM]

  


CC \---> VP: hey where are you

VP \---> CC: Navo! Where have you BEEN?? I’m on my way to LONAB. You should come.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk’s pants are thrown across a chair by the dining room table. He equips them. 

  
  


CC \---> VP: asleep, i think the imps laced my drink. 

CC \---> VP: im gonna go see if theres a plane that didnt get consumed in the wrath of lopar

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Navo goes and sees if there’s a plane that didn’t get consumed in the wrath of LOPAR. 

There is. 

Aren’t you glad we have these updates?

  
  


VP \---> CC: Make it quick. We need to check in!

CC \---> VP: :|

  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **no longer private messaging vividParadox [VP]**! [3:04PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ Hey, um… maybe sometime after we talk to Ali,” Dirk says nervously, popping his head back into the bedroom, “do you think maybe we could visit LOSAF? I haven’t been home in a while…” 

“Of course, sweetie! I would love a change in setting… The darkness tends to make things a little depressing after a while…” 

“Thank you, beautiful!” 

“THE THIEF IS AWAKE!” comes a shrill scream from outside, and Tommaso raises an eyebrow, straight-faced. 

“I’ll get that,” Dirk suggests over the roaring sound of dry humor. 

“ I –” But he’s already getting that. Over Tom’s protestations at the sound of Navo, Dirk opens the door, smiling, and for once, it doesn’t look  _ quite _ so wrong on his thin, over-sharp face. “Hey! What’s up?”

“Hi, Dirk,” Ali greets. “Not much.” 

“Come in! We’ve got hot chocolate!” They've got hot chocolate. Dirk is very excited by the hot chocolate.

  


Meanwhile: 

In the bedroom, Tom speeds to get dressed. This _might_ prove to be a minor problem. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ Fantastic,” Ali says flatly, walking past Dirk and into the kitchen. 

“What’s up, _loser_ _s?_ ” says an excited Navo. Goodness, it’s nice to be back in this fanfic’s spotlight, if only for a couple hot seconds. 

“Yo, Navo,” Dirk says, but follows Ali. “Is something wrong?” 

The Heir studies his face, which is rather bemused and a little apprehensive at her behavior. It's kind of awkward. She's just staring at his face. Really close. “Nope.”

“Cool!” 

“Eyyy.” Navo smiles, drawing the attention back to herself. She managed to do her hair and makeup en route to LONAB in her plane, and she looks _fantastic._ “What’s up, Dirky?” 

Dirk switches to Navo long enough for a “Not much – what’s up with you?”, then Tom with “Where do you want us, Tommaso?” 

“Navo,” Tom says, stepping out of the bedroom, “I know you’ve been asleep for a while, so you don’t know the problem with Devon. We need him to die, want to help us?” 

“He’s a danger to all of us, to be perfectly honest,” Dirk adds. He’s relaxed to a more formal and (more importantly) less gleeful expression, but he’s at least _admissibly_ serious. 

“What happened with Devon?” 

Dirk blinks, then turns to look at Tom. “Tell her, love.” 

“He’s a dick,” Ali explains. 

Tom nods. “I think Ali sums it up pretty well.” 

Dirk just smirks. 

“He’s a danger,” Tom says, “that we _can’t control_. He’s dangerous, and one of the Heirs has to do.” 

“ That’s right,” Dirk agrees. “It’s Ali or Devon.” 

“ And while I  _ volunteered _ – ”

“Shut up, Ali,” Dirk suggests, ruffling her hair playfully. “You’re _much_ better than Devon.” 

“Devon was probably going to betray us anyway, and Ali doesn’t deserve to die.” 

Ali slinks conspicuously away from Dirk to shuffle over to Navo. Unbothered, Dirk settles into a chair, leaning back casually. “To be honest, guys, what choice do we have?” 

“Hey,” Navo shares, “can I just, like, eat his life like a demon-thing? Steal-his-soul-through-his-eyes type of thing? Or is that too gruesome?” She laughs at the idea. 

“That’s perfect!” Dirk confirms. “I’ll disable him – cut off a few limbs, or something – so you can get close enough to finish him off. This way, not only does Devon die, but someone else gains an advantage! _And_ it gives him a chance to die _slowly_ … although…” Dirk ponders. “Do you think it’d be possible for you to transfer the stolen life to others?” 

“ That’s a great plan, and a good question,” Tom agrees.  _ I’m guessing he’s asking for my sake… _ That’s good, since the last time that Tommaso faced off with Devon, he lost a hand.  (He looks down at his hand. That is... really a bummer. Perhaps he'll see if he can Alchemite something next time he's got a moment.)

“Who would we transfer it to?” Ali wonders. “No one’s dead _yet_ , y’know.” 

“Yeah,” Tom concedes, “but if someone dies, we can use it as a way to revive a fallen player. Devon's an Heir. He won’t be easy to kill, and I’m sure that we would be subjecting ourselves to Heroic deaths.” Tom shudders at the thought of it. _Everything happens for a reason. The Gods picked_ me _to do this, and to be honest, I'm starting to wonder if that reason needs me alive to be realized._ “If Navo can revive others, that would be _very_ useful.” _And they said she would have to die for the game to succeed, though I still don't know_ why... _Perhaps that will distract her long enough to get her out of the picture. I don't want to kill her, though, not when all she's done is be a little jealous of my Dirk and I, that doesn't warrant_ death. _I'll... I'll keep her alive until it's absolutely necessary. If she's going to stop the game from being won, it'll probably be obvious, and maybe I can avoid that even so if I make the right choices. And besides, I wouldn't want to expose myself to that_ bullshit _life-stealing thing she has going on_. 

“ She revives herself,” Ali points out, shaking Tom from his thoughts. “We don’t know if she can give it to others.” 

“ Yes, Ali, that’s why we were asking her. I trust you’re familiar with the concept? See,  _ asking  _ a  _ question _ is when –”

“Shut up, Dirk.” 

“Well, Dirky-poo,” Tom says, steering them back onto the productive track, “don’t you have unlimited game knowledge? _Can_ she revive other players?” 

Dirk bites his lip. “That’s a bit obscure, love – you’ll have to give me a little time. I mean, a _Rogue_ of Life obviously would be able to, the question is really whether any of us can use OUR god-tier abilities to push her into that role briefly or, for lack of a better term, fuck with it enough to let her do that. ” He nods to the other three, then gestures to the bedroom door. “I’ve been writing up some of what I know – I’ll see if I can find anything in there.” _Good excuse. Now, GO_.

“ Wait, Dirk, what did you call him?” 

Tom blushes. _Shut up, Navo!_ He didn’t actually mean to let that one slip… 

“No, really, _what?_ ” 

Noticing nothing askew, Dirk exits stage right.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory dicks around in his cave of mysteries. 

It turns out to be actually rather boring. 

We now return to your regularly scheduled clusterfuck. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali nudges Navo. “Don’t ask.” 

Tom coughs, uncomfortable. Uncomfortable Tom is uncomfortable. If he were comfortable, then he’d be called Comfortable Tom, and he's not. He's called Uncomfortable Tom. It's very straightforward. 

“Why shouldn’t I ask?” 

“SO!” Tom says. “Navo, you’ve been gone for a while! What happened since last time we met?” 

Ali speaks in a rapid whisper. “Tom did some Voidy shit at Dirk's behest. Don’t mention Devon or Rory, don’t question the petnames. Could fuck up Dirk real bad.” 

Dirk pops back in, now in the costume of Subject Changer #2. “So apparently the Thief of Life _can_ lengthen the lifespan of others – theoretically, as long as there’s _some_ life left in someone, she can still rejuvenate them.” _Jesus, I haven’t had headaches that bad since the last time I got a sinus infection._ _And the_ nausea _..._ _At_ _least it passed quickly enough._ " Not really the same thing as reviving dead players, but it's in the same vein." 

  


Meanwhile: 

Relatively sure that he’s gotten the hang of this game, Rory is honestly kind of just waiting to get captured or some shit. He’s run out of things to bedazzle, which, judging by the pacing of this plotline, is the kind of thing boring enough to warrant a foreseeable plot twist.

Nothing happens. 

Rory looks down at his arm and scratches off the last remaining word with his ballpoint: _Bad fanfiction_. Well, fuck, now he’s got no _idea_ what genre of fresh bullshit he’s been thrown into. 

Rory sighs. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“In this game, life, or Life, really, is a spectrum –” Dirk continues – “some people are more alive than others. Who knew? Like how Wesley was only _mostly_ dead that one time.” 

“Oh, I love that movie!” Ali says, contributing nothing whatsoever to the conversation. 

“That’s actually really interesting, honey!” Tommaso says, and Dirk gives him +1 point in his head, summing to an approximately infinite number, which is, y’know, what it already was anyway.

Dirk grins, almost unnaturally widely. “Glad to be of use, love! What I can _infer_ based on that – although unsteady – is basically: poison? Revive. Decapitation? Perma-dead.” 

“This is all so confusing,” Navo says nervously. 

Tommaso grins at the new information (and also at a smirking Dirk surreptitiously maneuvering himself onto Tom’s lap). _Awesome!_ _Everything is falling into place.._.  Tom giggles. That's a good line. He feels like a Bond movie villain, but cooler, more suave, and considerably more intelligent and less villainous. 

“Thankfully,” Dirk says, “I don’t think anyone here can decapitate people spontaneously but _me_.” His eyes flash suddenly, and his (rather smug) smile drops. “ I mean, Rory's a destroyer of souls, but he's _way_ too passive to really do any damage, right?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The panty-fire is burning low. Rory is out of bedazzler sequins. His food supplies are diminishing. A single tear rolls down his face. This is the end. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“We’ll burn that bridge when we get to it. I’m just _so_ proud of you for being so great, like, _all_ the time.” Tom kisses Dirk’s cheek. “Now, what’s our plan with Rory and Devon? They’re _both_ obstacles to our victory and survival.” 

Dirk looks down at his phone screen, frowning. “For some reason, my last conversation with Rory looks like it was… oddly civil? I bet I could lure him into a trap.” 

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Ali says. 

Tom’s otherwise joyful expression falters. “Agreed. That might not be the _best_ idea.” 

Dirk’s fingers pause above the touchscreen. “You don’t think I should try it?” 

“Love, trust me. We should let someone else do it…” _I’m not on best speaking terms with the guy either, fuck it all to hell_. “Maybe Navo should do it… Weren’t you married to Rory at one point?” 

Dirk shrugs, then looks over to Navo, who’s nodding. “Doesn’t matter to me who gets him here. Although…” He shrugs again, nonchalantly. “I would very much like to be the one who gets to execute him once he’s here.” The grin finds its way back onto his face, a happy, infectious grin, the kind drunk-yet-harmless kids wear when they’re just looking for fun, and _no_ kinds of trouble… “We’ve got a bit of unfinished business, y’know?” 

SUSPICIOUSSUSPICIOUSSUSPICIOUS Tom is sweating the suspicious bell is going off ABORT ABORT ABORT hahahaha “You don’t have to do this all by yourself. We’ll help!” He kisses Dirk on the forehead. SUSPICIOUSSUSPICIOUSS USPICIOUS _AAAAAAAAAHHH_

“ Of course we will,” Ali appends, a little shakily. 

“That’s fine,” Dirk says, his eyes flashing in annoyance.

“Now, strategy,” Tom says. “What do you guys think we should do?” 

“I still think we could lure him here pretty easily with the Black Queen here,” Dirk says, gesturing in Navo’s general direction. He hops up off of Tom (he’s _really_ light for someone that's around six feet tall) and starts pacing again. “I think I can cut things I can see, even if I’m in a different room.” 

“Navo,” Tom says politely, “can you message Rory and get him to meet us somewhere?” 

“If it’s the tower on Skaia, we can grab Sara and she’ll be backup,” Dirk points out. His expression goes taut as he considers what he himself has just said, horror dawning on his face. “That’s not – someone – we’ve got to warn Sara, she’s still back there! Devon knows where it is, he could go back for her!” 

“Devon wouldn’t do that,” Ali argues. “He’s not a monster.” 

Dirk whirls on her. “He tried to _kill_ me, Ali! Or had you forgotten?” 

“Dirk, honey.” Tom shushes him, shooting a glare at Ali. “It’ll be fine, he’ll be too scared to show his face now.” 

“Everyone tries to kill everyone!” Ali yells, folding her arms. “Jesus Christ!” 

“He _succeeded!_ ” Dirk screams, his voice cracking. “I died, Ali! I bled out! Thank god it wasn’t _Just_ or _Heroic_ or I wouldn’t be here! _I fucking died, Bradford!_ ” 

“ Guys,” Tommaso insists, “please, stop!”  _ Shut  _ up  _ shut  _ up _ shut  _ up  _ Dirk _

Dirk looks at Tom, his eyes wide, and his expression softens. “You’re right, my dear. I’m sorry.” 

“Fine,” Ali concedes. “You have a point. I’ll give you that one.” 

“We… We _can’t_ let him live.” Dirk is shaking his head, almost as though he needs to convince himself of it as well. “He’s done too much damage now.” 

“It’s fine, honey,” Tom says, moving close to Dirk, holding him, reassuring him. “We’ll handle it one step at a time.” 

“Can we at least – just, like – do it gently?” Ali requests. “Not too horrible?” 

Dirk looks at Tom, taking in his words. “Of course, Ali.” 

“Thank you. He doesn’t deserve to suffer. Not a _lot_.” 

Tom lets himself relax, caressing Dirk idly. _Crisis averted_. “We’re safe for now. Let’s handle Rory first, then we can worry about Devon. Okay, love?” 

Dirk’s eyes close and he pushes into Tom’s hands, his breathing more regular now. “Right. Of course.” He opens his eyes again, wearing a grim, ironic, mirthless smile. “Rory first.” 

Tom looks pleased, giving Dirk a quick kiss. “Good. Now, Navo, message Rory and tell him to meet us on the tallest Skaian tower.” 

“ But, like,” Navo says, her upper lip twisted, “I don’t actually want to _talk_ to him." 

_Marrying that asshole was a mistake._

_Oh, y'think?_

_Shut up, me._

  
  


**carbonatedCorpse [CC]** is now **private messaging derseSovereign [DS]**! [3:12PM]

  


CC \---> DS: yo like I need to see you on the top of the skaian towers or something

DS \---> CC: Important question - can you bring underwear. Doesn’t have to be yours. Need it to stay alive. 

CC \---> DS: nevermind I dont want to meet you anywhere

DS \---> CC: This isn’t for any perverted reason, I swear. The pantyfire is a cruel and harsh mistress. Also, I thought you loved me :(

DS \---> CC: People in healthy relationships don’t let the other person go without a pantyfire. 

CC \---> DS: when the hell did I say that? 

DS \---> CC: ...You sort of implied it? When you agreed to marry me?????

  
  


Navo has an idea. _Tom can fuck with memories, right? And marrying Rory is definitely_ not _the kind of thing I'd do under any non-fucking-stupid circumstances._

“ So,” Tom conjectures, “I’ll go invisible while Navo and Dirk aggress Rory. I’ll stay, in case you guys need to disappear or something. Ali will provide us defense and fight in her Hope form. Sound good?” 

“Oh, boy. Human shield again.” 

Dirk raises an eyebrow. “I can just decapitate him. Not even Navo will be able to revive him after that.” 

Navo puts on her shocked, horror-stricken face. “WHEN THE HELL DID I MARRY RORY?!” She bites back a smile. Judging by the sudden panic on Tommaso’s face (swiftly swept away, he’s _good_ at this), he’s taken the bait. 

_Bard of Heart._

Tom curses a blue string in his head. _Fucking Voidy-ass side effect bullshit fucking fuckingfuckfuckity_ “ Navo, you’re the Black Queen. You were with him when he manipulated Dirk to be his slave, probably with magic or something. Probably used it on both of you.” 

_Destroyer of identity._

“ What the hell?” 

And whatever she believes, the marriage really _isn’t_ her fault. 

  
  


DS \---> CC: Hello? 

DS \---> CC: Did I say something wrong?

DS \---> CC: sorry

CC \---> DS: okay woah woah woah

CC \---> DS: hold the fucking phone

DS \---> CC: -holds phone-

CC \---> DS: when did I marry you, why am I the black queen, and how come I feel like such shit and have apparently been out for at least a day

  
  


“ Navo, are you okay?”  _ FUCKING VOIDY BULLSHIT _ “ Do you seriously not remember falling in love with Rory”  _ LAST TIME I TRY TO ASSASSINATE SOMEONE _ “ and ditching Dirk?”  _ THIS IS SUCH BULL _

“I would never ditch Dirk!” Navo’s eyes are tearing up. 

Dirk looks very, very alarmed. “I’m going to go check something out in the bedroom.” He flees.

  
  


DS \---> CC: Oh thank god you don’t remember the fainting incident

DS \---> CC: I’m presuming you don’t remember the fainting incident. 

DS \---> CC: Because if you remember the fainting incident and not our marriage, I mean, fuck. 

CC \---> DS: WHAT FAINTING INCIDENT? 

DS \---> CC: Uh, well. 

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging sexySlytherin [SS]**!  [3:15PM]

ER \---> SS: when was i with navo???

ER \---> SS: did something happen toher memory for her not to remember marrying rory???

ER –--> SS: did something happen to her memory for her to remember dating ME???

SS \---> ER: whatever rory did to you he must have done to her as well, you dated navo for a small while, but you drifted apart... probably a spell of some sort by rory

  
  


DS \---> CC: You kissed me on the cheek and. I sort of. Fainted. 

CC \---> DS: also: WHEN THE FUCK DID I LEAVE DIRK? 

  
  


ER \---> SS: let me torture him some before we kill him, okay??? you can have the honor of killing him if you want to, i wouldnt deny anyone the privilege of taking revenge on someone who deserves it. 

  
  


“Why is everyone on their phones?” 

“Shut up, Ali!” Navo growls. 

“We’re _supposed_ to be plotting,” she says bossily. 

  
  


ER \---> SS: wait, is that what happened with me being ‘his slave’? is that what you were talking about? because i dont remember it at all but... i mean i trust you tom of course but... god my head hurts, havent you got pain relievers somewhere in this house??? 

  


Tom smiles at Ali. “Dirk’s just sending me some cute messages, sorry!” _It’s okay, Tom, Dirk can know that he was with Navo. That’s fine! Everything’s fine. Most of it’s still blurry in his memory anyway; just make sure he doesn’t remember that he was with Rory and Devon_. 

“ None of you remember this shit? At all?” Ali rubs at her forehead. “All of you have worse memories than _I_ do.” 

“Well, _I’m_ sorry if Diamond used some kind of _bullshit witchcraft_ to make me break up with my boyfriend for fucking dog royalty!” 

  
  


ER \---> SS: im going to lay down, my head is pounding. thanks for clearing things up though. 

SS \---> ER: rory did some pretty fucked up stuff, just don’t dwell on it for too long. 

ER \---> SS: i love you!! 

SS \---> ER: love you, honey!

  
  


“Do you see what happens when people date?” Ali prompts. “This shit happens. Brain fuck-up-ery. This is why I don’t date people.” 

Navo turns and slaps her across the face, _hard._ “ Have you tried being _fucking sensitive?_ ” 

Ali just stares at her, mouth opening and closing. 

“So,” Tom says, glancing between them, “Rory has access to mind-changing powers. Probably relates to his Bard of Heart powers, I don’t know. He manipulates people into serving him, he _destroys_ their _identity_ , Dirk and I have talked about this before, what he should be able to do.” 

Navo groans. “Now Dirk probably thinks I hate him.” 

“I’m sorry, Navo,” Tommaso says sincerely, “you just _left_ so suddenly, I thought you hated him too… so I kinda started dating him. Let’s make Rory pay, okay?” 

“YOU DID _WHAT?_ ” 

_This is going so well._ “Not my fault. Rory’s fault.” 

Dirk shuffles back in, stage right. His hair is seriously fucked. “Can y’all not yell quite so loud? Every time I try to remember what happened when I was in that _asshole’s_ cathedral, my head hurts worse.” 

“Dirk, honey, just don’t think about it, the past’s in th –”

“He is _not_ your honey. I’m fucking astounded.” 

“ Dirk,” Ali says, “I can tell you what happened if you’re really wracking your brain.”  _ I am  _ so _ done being a team player. _

Dirk shrugs, a little sheepishly. “Tom is right, that isn’t important. I’m gonna grab some chocolate.” He exits for the kitchen. Stage left, this time.

  
  


ER \---> SS: can we trust ali??? i dont think she trusts you. 

SS \---> ER: im still trying to figure that out... just if ali goes against me can you please back me up? 

ER \---> SS: of course. youre the top priority, tom. 

  


“I’m supposed to be the Thief here, not Rory,” Navo huffs, crossing her arms. 

“Guys,” Tom says quietly, “let me be frank with you. Dirk is in a very delicate situation right now. Altering memories can easily screw someone up if you aren’t careful. If anything, you’d need to _ease_ him into reality, and since I’m the Mage here, I think I would be the one to know that you’re doing this _way too fast_ , Ali.” 

“It’s frustrating!” She stomps her foot and looks away. 

“I don’t care what Dirk’s mental health is,” Navo retorts. “I want him back. Tell me why you took him.” 

“Navo, I’m sorry, but I can’t change what’s been done. Rory did what Bards do and _destroyed_ , and I wanted to help Dirk afterward. Look at him. If you really love him, then you have to agree that you want him happy. Can you really tell me he isn’t happy this way?” 

Dirk steps back in, holding a headset. “Tom, can I use this?” 

Tommaso’s face lights up. “Of course, sweetie! If you think it’ll help with your headache.” 

Dirk smiles, though it’s a little bitter, a little sad. “It’s fine, love. Like you said, it doesn’t matter.” He retreats to the couch, plugging the headphones in, and loses himself in the music. _So, there’s relationships I don’t remember. And, really, with_ Navo? _And, damn, what_ happened _in that cathedral? Fuck, that hurts…_ _It doesn’t matter_. A soft smile plays on his lips as he nods his head to the music, and for the first time he can remember, he may be _content_. 

“ You _fucking_ bitch,” Navo says, retrieving a her scythe. 

Tom puts his hands in the air. “Please do not attack me.” 

On the couch, his back to the other three, Dirk’s eyes close, a second layer over the sofa blocking his vision. 

“Shit, man,” Ali mutters, stepping back. 

“Yeah, you better back up, Ali. You deserve this,” Navo insists, her voice raised. 

“Navo, don’t do this,” Tom says, his voice shaky. 

Dirk opens his eyes. _Is someone shouting?_ He turns around. _What is all the fuss a_ _–_ _oh._

“ Navo,” Ali says, moving slowly between her and Tom, “we don’t need any more unnecessary deaths.” 

“Why do you hate me?” Tommaso demands. “It’s Rory that made this happen! You know, the creep that _forced_ you to _marry_ him?!” 

_There are two ways this can go,_ Ali thinks to herself. _Either I stay here and defend Tom, or I move aside._

Blood drips from a sudden cut above Navo’s wrist –  not deep, not anything, really. “Navo,” Dirk says from the couch, aghast, “I’m sorry, but what are you _doing?_ ”

_..._ _or I could just… take no action._

“ You took him from me!” Navo screams, without even looking at Dirk. 

_I can do that, can’t I?_

“ _ Pay attention to me! _ ”  Dirk hisses. “ Please, d rop the scythe, Tom isn’t the enemy here!”

_Is that allowed?_

“ Fine. I’ll _drop the scythe_.” With a heave, Navo throws her scythe,  and Ali screams and dissolves into Hope; the weapon clatters to the floor ineffectually as Tommaso vanishes from sight. 

“You’re a coward, Tom!” she yells peering around as though with enough hate she can pierce his god-tier.

“Thank god,” Dirk says, beads of sweat on his forehead. “Navo, I’ll ask you again, _what_ are you doing?” 

“He’s gonna _pay_ for what he did!” 

“He didn’t do anything, Navo! Rory did this! He’s a Bard of Heart, he… he destroyed my identity, just being around him… He fucked with my head, he’s the one who made me stop loving you, it had nothing to do with Tom, Tom’s a good fucking person, he wouldn’t do that, can’t you _see_ that?” 

“He took you from me!” 

“How did I do that?” queries a quiet disembodied voice. 

“ _Neither_ of you should be arguing!” Ali intercedes. “Neither of you have the memory to support these damned _statements!_ ” 

“ Tom is  _ not _ the enemy!” Dirk says unrelentingly.

“Yes, he is!” 

“He didn’t _do_ this! Rory did!” 

“Navo,” Tom’s voice carries, “just calm down and please listen to my reasoning.” 

“I don’t want to listen to _reason!_ All of this just sounds like _I_ was forced into marriage and _Tom_ took my boyfriend! It’s not fair! It’s not what I _deserve!_ ” 

“ _Rory_ took you away from Dirk,” Tom yells. “I helped Dirk when he was _fucking miserable_ because he thought you had _left_ him! I did _nothing_ other than date the guy to make him feel better, Rory is the one who separated you! _It’s not my fault!_ ” 

Dirk nods, adamant. “Rory is to be blamed. After that, we can work out everything else.” 

“Well, how come no one tried to help _me?!_ ” 

“Oh, fuck this,” Ali says under her breath. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** is now **private messaging derseSovereign [DS]**! [3:23PM]

  


VP \---> DS: Everything’s hectic. How’s the fire? 

DS \---> VP: Burning low, I’m afraid. 

  
  


Tom stares at the Thief. “Until I met you afterward, I thought you were dead.” 

“I thought you _wanted_ to be with Rory,” Dirk corroborates, glancing nervously at Tom. He doesn’t remember, he’s got _no idea_ the terrain he’s covering – he’s furiously making things up. 

  
  


VP \---> DS: Well, you’re not getting any more of my panties.

VP \---> DS: Just so you’re aware.

  
  


“Oh, yes, Navo is dead. Might as well ignore she ever existed and _fuck_ her _boyfriend!_ ” 

“It wasn’t like that!” Tom says, tears coming to his eyes. “I’m not going to lie, I – I fucking _despised_ you for what I thought you did to Dirk. I had no idea that Rory _messed_ with you like that!” 

“You’re the one who married Rory,” Dirk adds, “I thought you had rejected me until now.” 

  
  


DS \---> VP: But I need them to survive, Ali. How can you be this cruel as to deny a poor man his panties. 

VP \---> DS: Y’know what? If you need panties that badly, just go get them yourself. 

DS \---> VP: Or, I suppose, I could just burn your Justice Tumblrcake shirt... 

DS \---> VP: <3<

VP \---> DS: NOT THE SHIRT

VP \---> DS: ANYTHING BUT THE SHIRT

  
  


“Well,” Navo decides, “I’m still really, really fucking mad.” 

“ You’re blaming the  _ wrong people _ , Navo!” Dirk warns.

  
  


DS \---> VP: I have to do everything by myself, don’t I. Well, it looks like it’s time for the Panty Raid™. Do you think I could steal Tommaso’s panties or something as well? Revenge is fun. 

  
  


Tom’s going to have to keep an eye on Navo to make sure _she_ doesn’t try to kill him. “How is it my fault? Dirk was single and _heartbroken._ I thought you were evil, I thought you were _dead_. None of this is my fault.” 

Fury begins to rise in Dirk again, and… are those sparks in the air around him? 

  
  


VP \---> DS: Yes, a 14 year old boy has panties. 

VP \---> DS: Or is panties just an umbrella term? 

DS \---> VP: I’ll just take your panties, then. 

DS \---> VP: No skin off my back. 

  
  


Small explosions, accompanied by crackling noises. “Are you being _willfully ignorant_ of reality, Navo?” 

Ali rolls under a table. “Hit the deck!” 

  
  


VP \---> DS: Yes. You’re gonna be able to go through a girl’s panty drawer. 

VP \---> DS: Big talk for a guy who passed out after a kiss. 

DS –--> VP: I did it once already, didn’t I?

DS \---> VP: Just watch me. 

VP \---> DS: I wish I could, but sadly, I am hiding under a desk. 

VP \---> DS: Otherwise I would TOTALLY record it. 

“Answer the fucking question, Navo! What about this _don’t you understand?_ If you really care about me as much as you pretend to, why the hell won’t you believe me?” 

“I’m mad, okay?” she says, growing flustered.

“Dirk, honey,” Tom sings, “it’s okay, calm down, I’m fine!” 

“For no good reason! You shouldn’t even _be_ mad at us! We did what was _right!_ I was _distressed_ because for _some reason_ you didn’t think it necessary to tell me that you hadn’t just _abandoned_ me in exchange for Rory!” Dirk is visibly shaking with rage. 

“ _I_ didn’t know what I was doing. I don’t know now what I did!” 

“Uh, no, you don’t!” Dirk agrees. “You’ve got no fucking idea! Which is why _you_ ought to just _shut up_ and listen to m – to Tom.” 

“You’re in the same boat,” Tommaso says. “Rory is the one to blame. He dies tonight, yeah?” 

  
  


VP \---> DS: I have to go. 

VP \---> DS: Watch your back. 

DS \---> VP: Consider my back watched. 

  
  


“Yes,” Dirk says, looking at Tom, blinking, his posture relaxing. “Tom can get us out of this mess.” 

“Well – I’m not listening to him!” 

“You’ve got literally no _idea_ what’s happening. You literally just said that. We have to trust _someone_ , Navo.” 

“Well, I’m still not listening to him.” 

Dirk growls, animalistic, his teeth bared. The sound, low and grating, cuts as he spins on his heel and stalks out the door, pausing just long enough to call behind him: “Message me when that _bitch_ recovers her sense of _reason!_ ” 

“ The  _ fuck _ did you just call me?” Navo yells, following him, soon running after. (Tom gasps, suppressing laughter, and calls, “Dirk, be careful!”)

Outside, maybe 50 feet from the house, Dirk turns to her again. “Leave me alone if you want to retain your body parts, Navo!” Behind her, through the darkness, he watches Ali’s silhouette step out the front door and kick off from the planet, aimed at LOAAM. 

“I’m so – _done_ –” Navo shoves him - 

Dirk gives an unintelligible yell as he falls, and suddenly Navo’s left-hand ring finger is off. “ _Shit!_ ” 

“ The hell?” she hisses.  _ Just how much life have you got, Prince? _

“Stop!” comes a distant voice as Tom runs toward them, but Dirk’s hearing isn’t great at the moment, and the darkness around them is swirling… 

Dirk hits the ground (not recalling any order that _he_ gave for his knees to fall apart beneath him), his thoughts returning to that night in the tower. _This doesn’t feel like it did last time. There really are a million ways to die…_ Swiftly, his hand moves, without trace of any trembling at all, cutting a line across, but not through, Navo’s neck.

From behind, Tom grabs her. _Justice!_

Navo gasps ineffectively, scrabbling at her neck, blood coming away with her fingers – _More, I need more, more Life_ \- 

“Still trying, huh?” Dirk says, grimacing. He removes her right leg from her body in another easy movement, and it’s clean. The shaking – though not in his hand – is going down, his motions are more controlled now, smoother. 

She falls over, her hands still moving, trying blindly to find something to hold onto as Tom backs away. “Fuck you!” she coughs, but it’s garbled, blood drooling from her lips. 

Tom falls to his knees. _Fuck, fuck, fuck,_ “Dirk, kill her!” 

Dirk’s hand rises to the amulet on his neck, his guide’s amulet, but – no, he can’t waste the Kernelsprite like this – _Tom_. 

“ Please, now!” Tommaso gasps, pitiful, crumpled, his Life fading, and Dirk can’t disobey that kind of plea. 

His heartbeat – up – his bloodsteam – full of adrenaline – Navo’s head – completely off of her body. Dirk stumbles to where Tom is, a little disoriented. “Are you – I’m sorry – are you okay, my love? Are you alright? Did I – I’m sorry.” 

  
  


The **Thief** of **Life** is now **dead**!

  
  


Tom breathes more steadily now. “Dirk, love, it’s fine. You did great.” 

Dirk nods, accepting Tom’s praise. “Do you need help walking?” 

“ Yes, please. Thank you so much, you… saved my _life._ I love you so much!” 

  
  


_JUST_. 

  
  


“ Fuck, I love you too, Tom.” He loops Tom’s arm over his shoulders and begins to guide him back toward the house, Navo’s body bleeding out behind them in the darkness… 

  
  


Meanwhile:

Entering Ali’s home, Rory smashes yet _another_ window in search of her panty drawer. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Oh, you _fucking_ –” Ali cuts herself off and flies faster. Truly, there’s never been a better indicant of Rory Diamond’s presence than the shattering glass of property damage. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“If I was Ali,” he murmurs, “where would I keep my panties?” 

“ Didn’t I  _ tell _ you no more smashing through windows?” says an exasperated lecturer from behind him.

“Jeez, sor- _ry_. Where are your panties?” 

“ Not in that drawer, that’s for sure.” Her room looks tidied up, which is a plus. And all of her clothes have been hidden now, so.

“C’m’on, please tell me. I don’t _want_ to freeze to death.” 

“Just stay in my fucking house! With _heat!_ Wonderful! Enchanting! Stupendous!” 

“Yeah, but they can find me here.” 

“Who can possibly know you’re here if we don’t tell them?” 

“Well, they might go looking for _you!_ ” 

“You can hide in my closet when they’re here. And trust me, people don’t go looking for me.” 

“Ali, hon, there is _no way_ I’m going back in the closet.” 

“Fine, fine. But I’m telling you. You’re safe in my house. No one comes here unless I beg them. Or in your case, want to burn my undergarments.” 

“Alright. But only, _only_ , if you give me one of your deepest, darkest hate snogs.” 

“What the fuck is a snog?” She’s asking for a friend.

“A kiss, dumbass.” 

“Fuck.” _Do I really need to_ beg _him to stay in my home?_ It’d be an inconvenience, to say the least. The very, very least. _Might as well humor him, I suppose_. “Fine. Whatever.” 

“ Oh, uh, didn’t think you’d actually take up the offer, but… okay!” 

  


Meanwhile: 

Tom looks over to Dirk. “We need to tell Ali what happened?” 

“Dirk looks at him quizzically. “Why?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Just – make it quick, alright?” She already looks disgusted.

Rory closes his eyes, purses his lips, and waits for Ali to actually close the gap.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“If we don’t, then she’ll find Navo and think that we went evil or something, that’s just how her mind works. We don’t have anything to hide, so might as well tell her what happened: Navo tried killing us, so we killed her.” 

Dirk nods. “Do you want to do the talking? You know, since I still don’t really have all the context for everything. I just –” He’s growling again, a low, throaty sound almost like purring. Does he even realize he’s doing that? “I tried to _leave!_ I tried to run away!” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Touchdown. 

Rory tries not to faint. _Even so._ _Seriously, Ali?_ Really, the pleasure barely outweighs his massive disappointment. 

Ali tries not to cry. _Seriously,_ _Rory_ _?_ Really, she’d hoped her first kiss would be something _special._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ I can’t use a phone right now,” Tom says heavily, “can you message them for me? I’ll tell you what to say. Mostly just, ‘Navo tried killing us, so we had to kill her before she could do anything.’” 

Dirk nods, already texting. 

  
  


ER \---> VP: something happened. 

ER –--> VP: the argument got really bad, i tried to leave and cool off but navo wouldnt let me. she tried to kill us, she started sucking out mine and toms LIVES, i had to kill her before she killed both of us. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali rips herself off of Rory’s face and falls on her ass in her frenzy to get to her phone. 

  
  


VP \---> ER: You have no idea what you interrupted, but I have never been so glad to receive this news. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Um,” Dirk says, “I think Ali is fine with this.” 

  
  


VP \---> ER: She’s dead??

ER \---> VP: very. shes definitely not draining my life anymore.

  
  


“That’s… good?” Tommaso says, just as confused.

Dirk deposits Tom on the couch. “Want some tea? Chocolate?” He checks his mobile. “Rory’s pissed. Oh, whatever will we do.” 

Tom scoffs. “Fuck him, we have the upper hand anyway. Tell him that if he wants to do anything, to meet us on the fucking Skaian tower in five hours or something… I would love some hot chocolate right now, by the way, honey.” 

Dirk makes hot chocolate. Conversation is made, but it’s not important. Little, over the past day, changes in the relationship of Tom and Dirk. It’s almost like Navo didn’t even exist, to be honest. But that’s okay! For the first time Dirk can remember, he’s happy. 

By the end of the hour, Tom is asleep (Dirk’s diazepam in hand), and his chocolate cup is dripping on the hardwood – Dirk cleans it up, of course – and although the couch is too small for both of them, Dirk falls asleep holding Tom’s hand, laying on a pile of blankets beside the couch so that he can enjoy the warmth of his one true love. 

1 25


	24. Tomorrow

#  Tuesday, November 17, 2015

Meanwhile: 

“Rory,” Ali says, “good news! Navo is dead. Uh, I mean, bad news.” 

“Who the FUCK killed my wife?!” 

“Dirk and Tom. Out of SELF-DEFENSE, don’t go kill them too!” 

  
  


VP \---> ER: Rory’s really mad. 

  
  


“Those little… Those little fucknuggets!” 

  
  


VP \---> ER: Like, really mad.

VP \---> ER: He just used the word fucknuggets

“Before you go and run off,” Ali says, gripping his collar, “You _never_ speak of this to _anyone_. You got me?” 

“ OK.” 

“Not even those little fucking dogs.” She releases him.

“Gotcha.”

“You gotta watch your fucking back, Rory. I’m super cereal.” 

“Alright, fine, sheesh, chill. Can I still live in your closet?”

“I thought you said you refused to fo back there!” 

“Fine, do you have a spare bed or something?” 

“...I didn’t think this through.” 

“Are we going to have to SLEEP together? How scandalous.” 

“Fuck off! I have a living room, you know.” 

“Yeah, but the couch wouldn’t be very comfy. Can I sleep in your dead parents’ bed?” 

“N \- No! No one enters that room! You got me?” 

“Alright, fine.” 

“I don’t want you anywhere NEAR that room.” 

“Chillax.” 

“Fine. Sorry. Are you sure you can’t sleep on a couch?” 

“I SUPPOSE, but that’s NO WAY to treat a GUEST.” 

“Why did I want you to stay here, again? Because _I_ sure can’t diddily-dang remember.” 

“It’s because you’re _hopelessly_ in love with me.” 

“As if. I am the embodiment of Hope. I am never Hopeless. Try again, smartass.” 

“Hopefully in love with me, then.” 

“I am not in love with you, _honey_. Maybe I’m letting you stay here because I am a _good person_.” 

“ In hate with me, then. Gotcha there.” 

“That’s it. Where the fuck are you gonna sleep then, fucknuts?” 

Rory pops a Valium and yawns. “I think I’ll sleep right here.” 

“No,” she says as he slowly puts his weight on her. “No, no, no, quit that.” Too late. She’s being crushed. 

“So… sleepy…” 

“Rory!” 

He’s lying directly on top of her. Victory. 

Rory rolls off of her and pokes her face. “You alive?” 

“Barely,” Ali moans. She doesn’t move. 

Rory snickers. “If I laid on you… does that mean you got laid?” 

  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging derseSovereign [DS]**! [ 2:43AM]

  


ER \---> DS: hey where are you???

  
  


“It means that you crushed my body with gravity. You did not initiate intercourse with me. Stop acting so high and mighty.” 

  
  


ER \---> DS: i miss you, can we get together soon???

DS \---> ER: I’m sorta in the middle of a hatedate right now, dear. 

DS \---> ER: Ali has just professed her undying hatred and lust for me and is riding my dick. 

DS \---> ER: Have a good day.

  
  


“Who was that?” Ali wonders as Rory puts down his cell. 

“Dirk.” 

Her eyes widen. “What’d he say?” 

“He asked if we could meet up sometime.” 

“Postpone it. Now is not a good time.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Motherfucker, do _not_ blow me off for our murder date, I swear to _god_ …” Dirk glances back at Tom’s prostrate body. What time is it now – 1, 2 in the morning? 

  
  


ER \---> DS: okay, i guess. i love you!!

DS \---> ER: Pale for you too, dearest. <>

ER \---> DS: dont know what that means. sleep well. 

  


After a sip of water and a bit more sedative (courtesy of his _tia_ 's stolen stash), Dirk falls asleep again. He does not sleep well. He is uneasy. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“I told him I was too busy having a hatedate with you.” 

“This qualifies as a ‘hatedate’, then?” 

“Yup. I said you were riding my dick.” 

“Oh. My. _God!_ ” Ali covers her face with both hands. “Dirk’s gonna think I’m a _slut_ or something!” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Before he falls asleep again, though, he leaves a note for Tom to find in the morning, if he does awaken first. 

_Your voice is so sweet that your words melt at my touch._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ I said it jokingly enough,” Rory says, rolling his eyes, “don’t worry your virgin little head.” 

“Says the other cherry in this room.” 

“Shush.” 

“Don’t shush me, you asshole.” She pauses. “Where the _fuck_ are you actually sleeping? It’s 3AM, I need to deal with this now.” 

“I can take the couch, don’t stress.” 

“ I’ll give you my shittiest blankey.”  _ Thank God I don’t have to sleep with him. _

“Fuck off.” 

“No way, man. The fluffy ones are mine. You can use a towel.” She climbs into her own bed, hiding her body totally beneath the comforter. 

“I’ll use your panties.” 

Her voice is muffled. “I’d like to see you try to find them.” He’s right, of course. She doesn’t need her clothes anymore, with self-cleaning god-tier garb. _But why should_ he _get to have them?_

“ I mean, if I’m left with no other option for warmth…” Rory goes to the end of the bed and worms his way under the covers.

“What do you think you’re DOING?! “

“Gettin’ warm.” 

“Not in my bed! I never let anyone in my room! I’ve gotten over that, but my bed is off-limits!” Ali tries to kick him off, but fails miserably.

“There’s no other option, Ali…” Rory drapes an arm and a leg over Ali, yawning exaggeratedly. He then pretends to fall asleep atop her, again.

_This is not happening_. “I know you’re not actually asleep, get up.” 

Rory begins snoring. 

“ Rory, I’m begging you, my ribs, you’re crushing them.” One last plan. One last chance. _If this doesn’t get a 14-year-old off, I don’t know what will_. “Get off of me, I’m on my period.” 

“ Y’want me to get chocolate or s’m’thin’?” 

“Sure.” 

“Too bad. I’m not getting off.” 

The Heir is crushed. Her Hope is lost. “I’m… I’m not actually,” she says, breaking down into a tearful confession. “I was just trying to get you to release me.” A single tear rolls down her cheek.

“That’s too bad, son.” 

“What will get you off of me? Bribes? Food? You name it.” 

Rory shifts and his codpiece pokes her. “Your blankets. All of them.” 

“No.” 

“Then you must be resigned to your fate.” Wrapping himself in her cloth, Rory turns into a blanket burrito.

“You just had to have them, didn’t you?” 

“Ehehehhehehehhehehehehheehehe.” 

Ali’s body takes on a cream-white glow, and soon is a mere whisp of Hope. She reappears beside him in a suddenly significantly tighter burrito. “These are _my_ blankets. _You_ can go _fuck yourself_.” 

“ Nah. Don’t wanna get your blankets dirty. They’re really soft.” 

“That’s why I use them. And why you shouldn’t. Could you, like, get the fuck out, maybe? Make me some food.” 

“No.” 

“Come on. I’m letting you stay in my house. The least you can do is make me some mac & cheesy.” 

“I don’t know how to cook. Besides, it's not like you _need_ food.” 

“You're the one who stole most of mine! It’s fucking mac and cheese, you boil water, put in fake cheese, add noodles, and, boom, you’re Gordon Ramsey.” 

“Shh.” 

“Fine, then, _I’ll_ make the fucking food.” She wiggles away. “What do you want?” 

“Candy.” 

“Alright.” She begins to leave, but ducks back in with: “Also, the clothing rule is still in effect. The second you step foot in my house, the boner panties are removed, so get those off.” 

“What? Unfair. You just want me to strip before our first date.” 

Ali is blushing visibly. “That’s not it at all! I just don’t want that _lewd_ apparel in my home _or_ in my range of vision!” 

“I’m not wearing any underwear underneath these.” 

“Oh, for – just borrow some of mine, then! I don’t fucking care anymore! As long as that _shit piece of clothing_ goes _away!_ ” 

“But, Ali, I don’t know where your panties are!” 

“Close your eyes and I’ll get you a pair.” 

“Fine.” He does.

“Fine.” She does. 

“Nice, girl panties.” 

“Oh, shut up, it’s just underwear.” 

“Actually, I dunno if I feel comfortable wearing these.” 

“You’re fu – what is it _now?!_ ” 

“Well, I mean, it’s your _underwear_ , Ali.” 

“That has been washed several hundred times.” 

“Still.” 

“Still what?!” 

“They’ve touched you… you know where.” 

“I can find an unopened pack if you’d like. Actually, gimme a sec.” After a good two minutes’ disappearance, she returns with new, white, lacy _lingerie_. “Try this on.” 

“ Thanks, bae.” 

“What?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

“Fine, then, asshole. Just get changed.” 

He gets changed. Naked besides the panties, he strikes a pose.

“Put some fucking clothes on.” 

“But, Ali, I don’t have any clothes!” 

“Borrow mine.” 

“Nah.” 

“Get dressed!” She blushes harder. 

“I’ll just get back in the blanket burrito.” 

“No!” She rushes to the burrito, battling for dominance over it. “Not without – clothes – I’ll have to _burn_ them!” 

He climbs back into the blanket burrito.

“FOR FUCK’S SAKE! Get OUT of there! Get _OUT_ get _OUT_ get _OUT!_ ” 

Rory laughs hysterically. 

Ali straddles the burrito in response and begins punching it. “I’m going to _fucking_ kill you.” 

“Ow, shit.” 

She wrenches him out of the burrito and throws him on the ground.

The lingerie is gone. 

Oh my fuck. 

  
  


♞

  
  


Ali stands back and looks at her handiwork. The child is wearing a pair of her baggiest sweatpants, though she didn’t bother to find a shirt. A pillow has been placed under his head. He’s sound asleep, having brought a screwtop bottle of whatever-the-fuck that powder is. There's something that looks like a prescription on the side, but, on closer investigation, appears to be written in impish chicken scratch. _Wonder what he’s dreaming about_. Thankfully, Ali has no sense of curiosity whatsoever, maneuvering her way down the stairs circa  4AM to make herself some mac and fucking cheese. 

Once the smoke alarm is disabled somewhere around half an hour later, her mac and cheese is as good as it’s going to get, and she returns to the bedroom. “Oh, my god, you have a boner.” 

“What?” Rory says groggily, waking up. 

“I’m only thirteen, man,” Ali says, covering her eyes with one hand and holding her pasta with the other. “I wasn’t gonna learn about that shit for at least two more years.” 

“The state of American education really is appalling. Anyway, you think this is weird? Try having a boner at a time that you’ve lived your _entire life_ with a pussy.” 

“I have absolutely no knowledge on anything of the sort.” 

“Well, now I’m _extra_ knowledgeable about both things.” 

They just kind of look at each other. 

“So. You have a boner.” 

“It’s not like I can control it, Ali.” 

In mutual, unspoken understanding, they leave it alone and just go to sleep. This game is anarchic enough already. 

  
  


♞

  
  


ER \---> VP: so!! ali. 

ER \---> VP: where the hell IS rory anyway??? do we HAVE any clues??? 

VP \---> ER: No clue at all

VP \---> ER: Not a single lead either

VP \---> ER: At all

ER \---> VP: well, motherfucker. 

VP \---> ER: Was I supposed to be finding him? 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk sits atop Tommaso’s roof, his polo collar in a state of roguish disrepair. (He’s wearing Tom’s shirt, dark green and a little stretched to fit his long torso.) His hair, having grown unusually long for him in past weeks, blows dramatically in the mysteriously random winds of LONAB.

  
  


ER \---> VP: you could try. 

VP \---> ER: Something’s telling me we won’t find him

ER \---> VP: i mean, he did say last time i messaged him that he was with YOU. 

VP \---> ER: He did? 

ER \---> VP: “DS ---> ER: Ali has just professed her undying hatred and lust for me and is riding my dick.” 

ER \---> VP: ali, i understand, hes your friend. but seriously. he cant be allowed to live. maybe he was okay, once, but hes not anymore. rory is a monster. 

VP \---> ER: He was your friend at one point too. 

ER \---> VP: what???

VP \---> ER: Maybe i just thought of that and it didnt really happen

ER \---> VP: maybe. 

  
  


She is _so_ weird.

  
  


ER \---> VP: i guess. 

ER \---> VP: if he was, i dont remember, but thats not important now. justice has to be carried out!! even if we suffer in the process. 

VP \---> ER: Justice for what again??

ER \---> VP: okay, for one thing, he literally imprisoned you for days on end with bread and water to eat and drink, do you not remember this???

VP \---> ER: Well yeah but i mean i was god tier then so he wasnt doing any real damage

ER \---> VP: what about me then???

ER \---> VP: he used some kind of dark fucking bard of heart mind magic to subjugate me for days, ali!! do you not care about that at all???

VP \---> ER: I care!

ER \---> VP: if anyone in this session would know about classpects, i would!!

ER \---> VP: you may not have been hurt by him, but that doesnt mean he shouldnt be punished. 

VP \---> ER: Dirk, I know he has done some pretty bad shit but who in this session hasnt? You have too, you know. It isnt just him.

ER \---> VP: i understand not wanting to betray a friend, but you have to admit at some point that he cant be a friend anymore without turning YOU evil too, just tell me where he is. 

VP \---> ER: even tom

ER \---> VP: WHAT HAS TOM DONE???

VP \---> ER: nvm

VP \---> ER: forget it

ER \---> VP: ALI!!

ER \---> VP: take that back!!

VP \---> ER: nah

ER \---> VP: tom is by far the best person in this session, i would die for him if i had to, YOURE the one who tried to commit LITERAL GENOCIDE!!

VP \---> ER: BACK AT IT WITH THIS SHIT

VP \---> ER: FOR THE LAST FUCKING TIME

VP \---> ER: I WAS NOT CAUSING IT HONEY!!!

ER \---> VP: my point is that YOURE in no place to judge. 

VP \---> ER: And neither are you!!!

ER \---> VP: do you know how much trauma rory has caused me??? do you know what its like being mind controlled for at LEAST a week just because someone wants a fucking slave??? YOU are in NO POSITION to absolve rory of his sins!!

ER \---> VP: tom is the jury, and i am the executioner!!

VP \---> ER: Fine. Go ahead with this. But just know I’ll have no part in it.

ER \---> VP: where is he???

VP \---> ER: Why would you expect me to tell you?!

ER \---> VP: i would hope because youre a decent person. 

ER \---> VP: is that really too much to hope for???

VP \---> ER: I am a good person. 

VP \---> ER: I’m protecting my friends. 

VP \---> ER: There’s nothing wrong in protecting freinds. 

ER \---> VP: there is when those friends are assaulters and abusers. if you were a true wielder of hope, you would know theres some situations in which hope cannot develop further until its obstructor is removed. 

ER \---> VP: if you still consider rory your friend, then you are part of that obstruction. 

VP \---> ER: I know jack about my aspect and you should assume that

ER \---> VP: which is why you need me to tell you, ali!!

ER \---> VP: if we dont punish those who execute unforgivable crimes, then theyll just keep committing them. somewhere, it has to stop!!

VP \---> ER: Then stop it yourself. 

ER \---> VP: THATS WHAT IM TRYING TO DO, YOU SMUG BITCH!!

ER \---> VP: GET OUT OF MY WAY!!

VP \---> ER: okey

VP \---> ER: jk get fucked m8ty

ER \---> VP: oh my god. youre in love with him, arent you???

ER \---> VP: youre hella black for him. 

ER \---> VP: i hope youre happy to sacrifice the rest of us for rory alone. 

ER \---> VP: i hope the two of you will be happy together for the rest of eternity, once were all dead.

ER \---> VP: and i sure as HELL hope that no part of your conscience remains alive to bother you about it. 

VP \---> ER: oh fuck yourself! It’s not like that at all!!!

VP \---> ER: EVERYONE IN THE SESSION HAS FUCKED UP EXCEPT FOR HIM!!!

ER \---> VP: who was the only one on my side when you were all LITERALLY trying to KILL me???

VP \---> ER: DIRK

VP \---> ER: SHUT THE HELL OFF

VP \---> ER: YOU’RE PISSING ME OFF

VP \---> ER: you’re just so fucking oblivious aren’t you???

ER \---> VP: at this point, tommaso is the only one i can trust. hes the only one here whos never tried to KILL me. who do you trust, and why do you trust them??? how can you be sure they have the interests of EVERY PLAYER that they can afford to have in mind in mind???

VP \---> ER: HE’S MANIPULATING YOU

VP \---> ER: JESUS CHRIST

ER \---> VP: IM IN LOVE WITH HIM!!

ER \---> VP: he would never hurt me. 

VP \---> ER: HE’S TRICKING YOU

VP \---> ER: YOU’RE JUST TOO BLIND TO TELL!!!

ER \---> VP: how is he tricking me???

VP \---> ER: just forget i said anything

VP \---> ER: have fun playing house

ER \---> VP: you cant just make these stupid obscure HINTS and then not TELL ME anything!! how am i supposed to make judgments without KNOWING anything??? things like this are WHY i NEED tom!! no one else will tell me ANYTHING!!

VP \---> ER: We’re not telling you BECAUSE WE CARE ABOUT YOU

ER \---> VP: THAT DOESN’T MAKE ANY SENSE!!

ER \---> VP: let me make my own judgments!!

ER \---> VP: do you not respect me enough for that??? 

VP \---> ER: YOU’RE NOT MAKING YOUR OWN DAMN JUDGMENTS

ER \---> VP: ARE YOU EVEN LISTENING TO ME??? I CANT BECAUSE YOU WONT TELL ME ANYTHING

VP \---> ER: Dirk i need to know something

VP \---> ER: If god tier powers were tempered with, what effect could it possibly have on someone? 

ER \---> VP: um, i cant imagine any way that someone could directly tamper with your gt powers??? unless the gods somehow interfered???

ER \---> VP: if the dark gods granted grimdarkness upon a player, that player would become a lot more active, and they wouldnt be able to communicate with any non-grimdark players... 

ER \---> VP: well, usually, there's some instances where the god-tier would be able to break some of those restrictions. a witch of void, at first thought.

VP \---> ER: I just mean whats the strongest effect god tier powers can have on someone

ER \---> VP: the strongest gt powers could be considered that of a witch, they directly contradict all the usual rules. like i said. 

ER \---> VP: but the strongest EFFECT gt powers can have on a SPECIFIC person is the one mine usually have. death.

VP \---> ER: And the strongest effect a grimdark player’s could have? 

ER \---> VP: i mean. theres not much stronger you can get than being DEAD. 

ER \---> VP: perma-dead, i mean. 

VP \---> ER: okay. thank you. 

ER \---> VP: why??? just because im the strongest player DIRECTLY doesnt mean anyone else isnt dangerous!! just because you THINK you can trust them, ali, that doesnt mean you can... 

VP \---> ER: you should take you’re own advice, dirk. 

VP \---> ER: reevaluate who you can trust. 

VP \---> ER: Everyone in this session has motives. 

ER \---> VP: tom loves me as much as i do him, im pretty sure his motive is just being with me. what evidence do you have that i dont???

VP \---> ER: Dirk, I dont want to get into this with you. that should have been evident from the start. 

ER \---> VP: no. 

ER \---> VP: not allowed. 

ER \---> VP: i will not permit you to give me an entire argument based on me trusting your blind interpretation, with no evidence attached whatsoever, and then say that you never meant to talk to me. 

ER \---> VP: i cannot reevaluate with NO new evidence. 

ER \---> VP: im TRYING to trust you... 

ER \---> VP: dont you want us to be friends???

VP \---> ER: Dirk I have never done you wrong. You should trust me as much as you trust tom. 

ER \---> VP: unacceptable. you attacked me with navo. and, AGAIN, i cant trust you if you dont tell me anything!! tom tells me what everyone else seems so reticent about, i dont have any choice about who to trust, i HAVE to trust everything he tells me if no one else will tell me anything!!

ER \---> VP: this is not a novel, you are not the main character, above all reason, and you do NOT get to install these double standards and tell me that tommaso is evil, which i have evidence against, and that rory is good, which i have evidence against, and then expect me to just sit here and take it. 

ER \---> VP: if im going to trust you, you have to trust me. 

VP \---> ER: I have not stopped trusting you. 

ER \---> VP: then why wont you tell me anything??? imagine if you were in MY place, ali!! im paralyzed, i cant do anything without input!!

VP \---> ER: YOU WANT TO KILL HIM!

ER \---> VP: MAYBE I WOULDNT IF YOU WOULD JUST TELL ME WHATS GOING ON!!

VP \---> ER: TOM IS FUCKING WITH YOUR MIND, ALRIGHT?

ER \---> VP: what do you mean???

  
  


The heavy atmosphere on the Land of Night and Bullshit seems suddenly oppressive, the dark obfuscating and secretive rather than a cool respite from pervasive light. Dirk is sweating _heavily_. When did he start sweating? 

  
  


VP \---> ER: He’s using his powers in some way to make you forget things. You used to be very close with rory (almost too close if you ask me) and he never fucked with your head. in fact, tom is. He’s manipulating you

  
  


Something is wrong here. What is wrong here? 

  
  


ER \---> VP: but he loves me... 

VP \---> ER: he loves you so much that he’s tricking you into thinking you love him and only him

  
  


The sweat on Dirk’s cold arms is nearly ice in the nighttime. With trembling fingers, he removes Tom’s shirt, stares at the cloth in his hands, he is shaking, Dirk is shaking, _what?what?what?_ what is happening? His hand finds its way to his head. His head is pounding. His head is feverish. His head pitches forward and thin vomit spills from him (he hasn't eaten) and Dirk is reduced to something he isn’t familiar with. 

  
  


VP \---> ER: Are you there Dirk??

  
  


Dirk is shaking as he vomits again, vomits, dry heaves, _what?what?what?_ what is Tom? Why does his memory _what?what?what?_ match his sight in double-vision? 

  
  


VP \---> ER: Dirk I need to know that you’re alright

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]’s** device has been destroyed! [6:16AM]

  
  


His phone drops off the roof, shatters against a railing below, but he can’t hear it over _what?what?what?_ the blinding darkness and the rush of blood and and and and _what?what?what?_ and and and

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali’s head is in her hands. _I knew that was a bad idea. I should have ignored it. I should have ignored it_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk can’t feel the muscles in his gut, he can’t feel his head, he can’t hear anything but his own heartbeat, where is _Tom what?what?what?_ Dirk needs help, he wants Tom _what?what?what?_ Dirk needs someone, he needs _Navo_ but Navo is _what?what?what?_ Dirk needs Rory but Rory is _what?what?what?_ Dirk needs someone he’s never _fucked_ , he’s not okay, he needs _Ali_ , he needs _Blitz_ but

  
  


Blitz

  
  


Rose

  
  


Rose. 

Rose did something. 

That’s what happened to his brain. 

Rose was fucking with his past. 

And no one knew, no one even noticed, because this was the alpha timeline, it was _forced_ into position as the alpha timeline, Rose fucked it up, he fucked it all up, and now his past – ruined – double vision – and _no one had noticed_. 

Trembling, Dirk removes his fingers from his mouth, covered in bile and spit _what?what?what?_ (wrong, dirk, why would you be making yourself throw up? wrong, dirk, do it again) Trembling, Dirk sits up, the pieces of his phone below and his own throw-up all over him. 

Fuck, it’s cold out here. 

Dirk puts down his shirt (Tom's shirt) with a hard resolve, not calm, but no longer so sick (even if his head is still spinning because why? because _what?what?what?_ (wrong, dirk, try again) no longer sick at all, in fact, his head is fine) and _this_ is the discrepancy, because Rose was the one fucking everything up in the first place, _that’s_ why _what?what?what?_ (nothing is wrong, dirk, try again) _that’s_ why _what?what?what?_ (fine! have it your way) _that’s_ why there’s two different timelines people are remembering. 

These players are from two different timelines. 

(Somewhere in the back of his head, the _what?what?what?_ resolves itself comfortably.) 

So. Two timelines, one where Rory and Devon were absolute _monsters_ (players: Dirk, Tom) and one where it had been _Tom_ , sweet Tom (players: Ali).

So, then, the obvious question… 

Who are the other two? 

  
  


♞

  
  


Dirk pauses, about to awaken Tommaso (let him sleep, dirk, this can wait, this isn’t important enough to wake him up, let him sleep) and lets him sleep. This can wait, this isn’t important enough to wake him up.

The vomit washed from his stomach, his clothing, Dirk sits down at Tommaso’s table and waits (don’t screw this up, don’t screw this up, dirk). 

  
  


SS \---> VP: its dirk. i figured something out. you should get to lonab soon. dont bring rory. 

VP \---> SS: Sure thing

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Inactive**!  [7:02AM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali stands up. “Sorry, but – Dirk – y’know the drill,” she says, waving her hands vaguely, and, without waiting for a response from Rory, flies out her window.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Even in the yellow-orange candlelight (fire created by a few split particles, courtesy of the Prince of Blood), Dirk is far, far too pale. His fingers are trembling, even if his eyes are sure. His skin _radiates_ heat, even if his hands clutch a woolen blanket, pulling it tighter around him. 

“Dirk?” 

“We should w – we – wait – wait for Tommaso.” Dirk nods, and though Ali is the only other one in the room, it’s not clear to whom. “He should hear this too…” 

“Are you okay?” she says, gently taking hold of his wrist. 

Dirk smiles, his eyes gleaming with a sickly happiness. “ _Neither_ of us are wrong, Ali.” 

“I – I don’t understand.” 

“T –T – Tom is blameless, Tom is – I love him, but I’m justified, and the R – the – the – Bard – of – of Heart that you know _was_ your friend, maybe, but – I’m seeing _through_ – ” Dirk takes an uneasy, shuddering breath. 

“Dirk, I think you’re out of it. Do you need to – Do you need to sit down or something?” 

“I can see what you c – can’t, I can see the – I'm Blood, I know _connections –_ and he's my alternate –  two – there’s – Rose, the guide, before he – I _killed_ him – he was fucking with it, he was fucking with the timelines, they got _retconned_ , he made it the alpha timeline, so he could do what he wanted and he – he was – he fucked with us! I saw through it, I – there’s _two_ – both – double visi on. I saw both paths because – because Rose is who I _could’ve_ been. He's my alternate. I'm the Prince of Blood, connections are my _thing_ , I saw through it even when you couldn’t!” 

“That makes sense. I guess?” The confusion is evident on her face, but she tries to brush it away. “You’ve been through a hell of a lot, haven’t you? Did you remember what I was telling you about? With Rory and everything?” 

“It –” _what?what?what?_ – “he – R –” _what?what?what?_ – “Rory – _your_ Rory – he’s not _my_ Rory. We had two different m – memor – mem – timelines.” 

“What do you mean? That can just _happen?_ ” 

“R – Rose must have _pulled_ _in you_ from another timeline into – into this, the – the _alpha_ timeline. Because – Because in _my_ timeline, R – R – Rory was –” Dirk’s mouth twists. “Rory was a _monster_ , so was Devon, but – in _your_ p – p – timeline, they were fine, and T -- Tom – Tom – Tom -- Tom – he was – _he_ was the evil one. Even though in _my_ timeline, he’s the best g – chance we have of beating this game! So we know which timeline Tommaso – Tommaso, b – Tom is from, but we need to know which _Rory_ and _Devon_ we have.” 

“I think I got it this time. Is there anything I could tell you to help you figure it out?” 

“It’s – I think it’s fucking withwithwithwith –” Dirk shakes his head. “It hurts, I can’t think – it’s my _head_ , I don’t have the right m – mem – mem – me – p –timeline, because it just – I think – Rose – I was Rose, but if you tell _Tom_ – he –  he can be objective. But knowing _both_ of them at the _same time_ , it doesn’t work for me, because I can _see_ them _both_ and they can’t be reconciled.” 

“You’re just confusing me again. Just tell me what I have to do and I’ll do it.” _W_ _hen it comes to things that I don’t understand, I’ll stick with whoever does the talking…_

Dirk grasps her wrist, his fingers _hot_ against her, almost burning. “You’re _freezing_.” 

“ You’re burning! Are you sick?” 

Dirk shivers and pulls back. “I’m fine, I’m just c -- c – _cold_. I don’t know _what_ it is.” He glances at her again, then moves into the kitchen. “I’m making – _fuck_ – I’m – do you want tea?” 

“ Do you have green?” she wonders, following tentatively. 

“ _Shit!_ Don’t – is there a broom somewhere?” Sharp faux-porcelain is scattered across the floor. “Don’t move.” 

She freezes in place. “What happened?” 

“I – I dropped it. _Shit_.” 

“ What did you drop? I can’t tell.” 

Dirk peers at the shards, then picks one up, rolling it between his fingertips, which shake violently. The fraction of a mug slips and a line of new blood _drip_ s, _drip_ s, _drip_ s down and splatters against the floor, but the shard of porcelain, still in his grip, if just barely, dissolves into nothing. “Right…” Dirk waves his hand, blood still adding to the mess on the floor, and the rest of the porcelain seems to disappear. Dirk grins. “Good to kn – know I can still do that. H – yeah.” 

“Do you need a bandaid?” Ali seems to be surprisingly unfazed by the sight of blood.

Dirk glares at his finger. The cut widens. “Cau – Cauterize – you’re not a Maid. Yes, if you don’t mind.” 

Ali rushes upstairs, blindly navigating Tom’s house for a bathroom. The first aid kit is sprawled on the ground. Locating a large band aid, she practically runs back to –

“Dirk?” comes a sleepy, drawn-out voice from nearby – 

_Shit_ , thinks Ali desperately – 

“Tom!” Dirk calls from the kitchen. “I –” he pauses – “I cut myself, I’m sorry, love, I’ll clean it up – Ali’s here, I think something happened. She’s meant to be getting me a band aid – I’ll explain!” 

Ali backtracks back up the few stairs she’s descended, back into the bathroom, and locks herself in. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom wanders into the kitchen, his hair a mess, smiling sweetly, and wraps his arms around Dirk from behind. “No need to explain anything, love! How did you cut yourself? Are you okay?” 

Dirk grins to himself. “It’s nothing, sorry, I broke the cup, I – sorry, I was trying to make tea for – because, you know, Ali’s still here and I didn’t want to wake you up.” Even throughout all the stuttering, his smile (rather relieved) doesn’t fade. Dirk removes a washcloth from a nearby cupboard and, apparently deciding that it’s good enough, douses it with hydrogen peroxide, and… “And I think that’s the stain done with, too, I’m really sorry about that, love.” 

Tom inspects his hand. “You said Ali is here? Where did she go? We should get her something to drink!” 

“Listen,” Dirk says, pulling Tom in toward himself and reveling in his body, “I think – I think – there’s something - ” His hands are trembling again, his skin still feverish. “Ali was talking about you, and about you _fucking_ with my – my – my – my head. And I fed her some bullshit about Rose, but I don’t think it was him, not really, I thought about it more and I think it’s Rory, he did something like this before, I remember it, making me believe things that weren’t true, that’s how he got me to be his fucking – his ‘knight’ the first time. I can see, it's like – but he’s screwing with my memories, _again_ , I can’t think – think – think straight. Although…” He gives a quickly cut-off giggle, high-pitched even for him. “Although I think you – you’re helping me out with that. You… I love you so much, Tom.” 

Tom’s expression goes dark, though Dirk, his back pressed against the shorter boy's chest, can’t see it. In contrast to his precious Dirk, he has no problem processing and voicing his response. “Oh, no, that’s horrible! Poor Ali…” _Son of a bitch, Ali._ “ We need to get rid of Rory! And we have to be careful around Ali now… Who knows what Rory can do through her if he got control of her mind? You should stay wary of her for now, I’ll do the talking to protect you. Mages of Void should be able to handle this better, right? Just sit down, I’ll be right back, alright?” 

“That’s… of course. Yes, of course, you’re right, that’s what I told Ali, you’re the one we can trust.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali sits curled up in the bathtub, the curtains closed. _Tom’s gonna be more than pissed. He specifically told you not to warn Dirk. What do you do? You warn Dirk._

“ Ali?” comes a voice. “Where are you? I understand, I see why you had to tell him, I forgive you, just come out! He told me what happened, I understand now…” 

Involuntarily, Ali squeaks at the sudden voice. 

  


Meanwhile: 

The bathroom door is locked. 

Tommaso knocks. “Ali? Ali, are you okay?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Well, shit. Dirk’s going to need another phone. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

She wants to apologize, she wants to jump up and unlock the door and babble nonsense or fly home and forget this happened. Instead, she sits there, silent, a deer in headlights. 

“Ali, I want to help. I know you may remember strangely, but Rory got ahold of you, that’s what the problem is. Please open up, I can correct your memories.” 

“You’re lying!” Ali screams, and the incessant, rhythmic knocking that Tommaso has been doing - almost background noise - stops. “You told me yourself that you did shit to Dirk! You warned me not to bring up anyone else in the session, and I’m sorry I did that anyway, but you’re _not_ going to convince me that Rory’s controlling me, you _sick_ son of a _bitch!_ ” 

Only silence comes in reply. _Please, please tell me he’s gone_ … “Ali” _Fuck_ “ Ali, do you really not know what happened? Is that how you remember it? Like I’m… some kind of _monster_ who’s _controlling_ Dirk?” Tommaso sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and Ali wants _so badly_ to just _get out_ , just _get out_ , everything’s too _cramped_. “I guess I can’t b – blame you,” he says – is he crying? -- “Dirk was the same way. I remember him _telling_ me how it was, to be Rory’s knight, his fucking slave, don’t you think that ass ever got annoyed with you? Dirk thought you had used your Hope powers to doom the session in exchange for your own safety because of Rory. Please, Ali, let me help!”

“You’re not going to fuck around in my head! I don’t even _care_ if you _really are_ helping me remember, I don’t want anyone in my head and that’s final!” 

“Ali!” he screams back, in one long sob, and then quiets for a second as he regains his vocal faculties. “Ali. Rory’s already in your head! I mean, _fine_ , but I’m not going to feel comfortable fighting by your side when you’re under the enemy’s influence, Ali! I just… please, I just want to have my friends back. Rory has destroyed everything I ever loved, Ali, I barely got Dirk back…” Tom’s crying fades away, slowly, painfully. “Get out of my house, Ali, and come back when you change your mind about who really deserves your help.” 

“Rory’s not the enemy!” Swiftly, Ali stands up, unlocks the door, and stares Tom in the eyes. “You are!” 

Tom peers into her eyes, his own watery, and he shakes his head, speaking in a low tone. “At least I’m _doing something_. Dirk,” he says, raising his voice  and turning away, “Dirk, love, I think it’s time we find Rory. Maybe once we kill him, Ali will be released from his spell.” 

Not bothering with stairs, Ali takes a leap over the railing and flies, wobbly, downstairs – “You’ll be dead if you try!” \-- and makes her exit. 

_I’d like to see them try to stand up against a Mage and a Prince, working together…_

Tommaso Mambelli is going to win the game with Dirk and  he's going to live a new life with his _true love_ , no matter what it takes. 

Even if he has to murder every other player in his way. 

_Let it be known that I never wanted this._

In the recesses of his brain, the Dark Gods laugh, and laugh, and laugh. 

  
  


♞

  
  


VP \---> SS: Tom, don’t do this. 

VP \---> SS: Please. 

  
  


Tom steps away from the Alchemiter. “No, honey, keep going, I just need to deal with something.” 

  
  


SS \---> VP: I’ll give you one more chance before I declare you gone to the void. 

SS \---> VP: Where is Rory? 

SS \---> VP: Please, we just want to help. We don’t want to lose you too. 

VP \---> SS: I’m not going to tell you where he is. 

VP \---> SS: This is unecessary bloodshed. 

VP \---> SS: For the love of God, please don’t kill him!

SS \---> VP: He’s trying to turn you against us and make us lose the game. 

SS \---> VP: You don’t know what he’s planning. As the Mage of Void - the knower of secrets - I do.

  
  


He has to make sure that he plays this carefully. If he can get Ali on his side, he’s won.

  
  


VP \---> SS: You’re the one who can fuck with minds!

SS \---> VP: You know very well that all I can do is erase memories. Rory is the destroyer. 

VP \---> SS: Rory’s done nothing harmful this entire game and here you are trying to slaughter him!!

SS \---> VP: Rory fucked with both Dirk’s and Navo’s minds at least. 

VP \---> SS: He’s got nothing planned, and even if he did, they wouldn’t make us lose the game!

SS \---> VP: I know secrets, Ali, that’s my job. He’s holding massive secrets, so I’ll ask one last time. WHERE IS HE???

VP \---> SS: What secrets is he holding? 

VP \---> SS: If you tell me, then I might trust you. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Land of Pirates and Rocks, Cruella de Belle plays the jazz records that once belonged to her old charge, trying to calm the waves.

It doesn’t work. 

Navo is gone, and her guide can’t do a thing about it. 

  
  


SS \---> VP: WHY DO YOU THINK I’M LOOKING FOR HIM? 

SS \---> VP: He obviously has SOMETHING planned, since he’s messing with you right now!

SS \---> VP: Just please, Ali, you know me. 

SS \---> VP: I was JUST protecting you from Rory calling you a genocidal maniac a second back! 

VP \---> SS: The only god damned place Rory is is in the fucking closet. 

VP \---> SS: He’s not fucking “messing” with me.

SS \---> VP: ??? okay I didn’t know he had problems with that but okay then

SS \---> VP: thought it was king of obvious

SS \---> VP: but HE IS!

VP \---> SS: Ikr he’s so in the closet lol

SS \---> VP: FINE, if you’re not going to tell me where the guy who’s probably going to KILL YOU is, then I guess I’ll just have to FIND HIM MYSELF!

VP \---> SS: Okay go ahead. 

VP \---> SS: He could be anywhere in the universe rn lmfao good luck p a l

SS \---> VP: Mages of Void know secrets, don’t fucking doubt me. 

VP \---> SS: What’s that supposed to mean? 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Offline** **!** [8:21AM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom grimaces. _And now this to deal with?_ And he doesn’t even have his Orb of Obfuscation anymore, fuck knows where that is, but it was _so useful_ and he never wrote down the recipe. 

“Hey," comes a quiet voice from behind. "You alright, love? You look a little worried.”

Tom smiles and kisses away the worry. “Of course, my dear.” 

They get back to work.

1 17


	25. Novelty

#  Wednesday, November 18, 2015: Part One

Ali crashes into her bed with enough force to knock him the hell out of it. 

Rory, now awake, helps as he’s knocked off; grabbing the covers on the way down, his glasses propelled from his face, he looks blearily up at Ali. “Ali, is that you? Or am I about to get murdered?” 

“ It’s me, but we don’t have much time. Last night, I was at Tom’s –  a nd then I went to Navo’s, I wanted to plot, I  _ forgot _ _ she was dead _ – and then I couldn’t do anything, I just couldn’t, it’s been so long since I slept, and I  huffed that weird shit Woofclaw gave you and I  only just woke up.”

“It’s two in the afternoon, Ali –”

“I don’t know how long we have. They’re gonna kill you.” She buries her head in her hands. “Oh, my _god_ , they’re gonna _kill you!_ ” 

“ And  _ how _ are we gonna stop them from killing me? It’s not like you know the location of my hideout, and I can’t find it without my  _ glasses _ . Thanks, by the way, for that, I’ve got no idea where they are  _ now _ .” His voice is dripping with caustic irony. Feeling around for his glasses, he seems unbothered by the fact that he’s apparently about to be murdered.

Ali paces frantically, talking quickly: “Look, I’m sorry, but –”

A crunching sound comes from beneath her left shoe. 

Rory freezes. “Ali, you did _not_ just do what I think you did.” 

Her entire body is stiff. Her face feels hot. “I sure hope to God I didn’t just do what you think I did, too.” 

“This is just _fucking_ fabulous.” 

“I didn’t mean to!” Ali lifts her foot and broken glass _tinkle_ s down. “It was an accident! I swear!” 

Rory cracks a grin. “I’m just fucking with you. Going god-tier fixed my eyes, those are just for the aesthetic.” 

“Oh, fuck you!” Ali falls to the floor beside the shattered glass. “You scared the shit out of me!” 

“Get fuckin’ rekt,” Rory cackles. 

“I hate you with a burning passion. I thought you were going to _kill_ me.” 

“Why would I do that? I’m the only one here who _hasn’t_ murdered anyone, pretty sure. Unless you count two carapacians. Who may or may not have been the White Royalty.” 

“Wow, okay. Speaking of _murder_ ,” Ali says, standing and brushing herself off, “we should get back to the topic at hand.” 

So, what are we going to do? How exactly do you plan to stop Tom and Dirk from killing me?” 

“I was thinking… you just hide… in the closet.” 

“...why the closet?” 

“There’s nowhere else to hide in my house! The space under my bed is solid wood, we have no basement or attic, and downstairs is as open-architecture as it gets!” She pauses. “Besides the kitchen. Also, y’know, the irony.” 

“Alright, fine. Into the closet I go. I’m straight, ladies. Totally not trans at all, either, 100%. I am a cis'-het' girly girl,” Rory says as he enters the closet.

“Good. Can you breathe? Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” 

“Great. Fantastic,” Ali mutters as she props a heavy chair against the door handle.

Rory twists the handle. The door doesn’t bulge. “...did you lock me in here?” 

“Kinda,” Ali snickers. 

“God damn it.” 

“So,” she says, sitting on the chair, “tell me about your day.” 

“I was unconscious for most of it. You?” 

“Got threatened by Tom…” She trails off. “Hey, do you remember what your god tier description was?” 

“I’m a Bard of Heart: one who passively destroys with romance, soul, individuality and personality.” 

“ Oh, okay. Thanks,” she replies, more quietly.  _ What if Tom was telling the truth? _

“What does yours do, again? You inherit Hope or something, right?” 

“I inherit Hope and passively protect myself with Hope and even turn into the purest form of it, too. That’s how I escaped your prison a while back, I just slipped through the bars. Wanna see? I think I’ve gotten better at it.” 

“Well, obviously, I _can’t_ see. I’m in the fucking closet.” 

“Well, hold on a second.” Her face pinches up in concentration as Ali’s body becomes outlined by a wavering halo of pale gold… Ali reforms inside of the closet, rather cramped. “See?” 

“That seems a whole lot more useful than my boner pants. You’re lucky you have a solid grip on your powers.” 

“I got help from, um, Tom a little bit. He showed me how to use my powers for defense, and healing…” 

“Right. Well. Tommaso is definitely _not_ someone I wanna see right now.” Rory’s eyes narrow. “And not that _you_ want to see, either, right?” 

_Fuck._ “ Uh, yeah, him and Dirk are coming to kill you…” _Fuck, what if Tom was right?_

“ I still don’t understand _why_ they want to kill me in the first place. What did I do? Hug Dirk?” 

“Tom is making Dirk think that you were controlling him and messing with his memories. Then he – and get this – he tried convincing _me_ that you were messing with _my_ memories! Crazy, right?” Ali’s voice wavers. _Prove me wrong, please prove me wrong…_

“ Okay, I have a few questions here. How the fuck am I meant to mess with memories? Hello, my aspect is Heart, not that it wouldn’t be _cool_. I could make Slick think he was born and raised to be some sort of hat-loving jester or some shit.” 

“ Okay.” Ali stands there, uncomfortable in the darkness.

“...you didn’t _believe_ him, did you?” 

“ Uh, no! Not even for a minute!”  _ Dirk wouldn’t have accepted that explanation,  _ _ he'd be probing deeper _ _ … Since when am I taking my cues from Dirk? _

“You do know I wouldn’t do that, right? I may be an _asshole_ and shit, but I wouldn’t mess with people’s memories, even if I could. I mean, the most I know about my powers is that I can maybe do stuff with souls? When I’m really angry? I mean, the only time I ever did something even _vaguely_ power-y was when I was pissed at Devon’s guide and tried to kill _it_.” 

“ I guess, sorry. Fuck you, though.” She drops to a stage whisper. “Am I doing this black stuff right?” 

“We’re meant to respect each other, to some degree, it ain’t all hate. Also, it's more annoyance than hate. But fuck you, too.” 

“Okay. I think I’m getting the hang of this.” She tries the closet door. Then she remembers the chair. “Oh, fuck me.” 

“What, you can’t get out the same way you got in?” 

“I don’t know, it’s a lot harder to concentrate in here…” She concentrates in there. It’s a lot harder. “No, not happening.” 

“Great, now we’re both locked in here. I guess now’s as good a time as any for a game of seven hours in hell. It’s like seven minutes in heaven, except you’re locked in a closet with your kismesis for _way_ longer.” 

“We’re only stuck here until I can calm down this bullshit Hope energy. But other than that, fantastic. What do you wanna do now?” 

“If we’re continuing the pattern of sleepover games, how would Would You Rather, Truth or Dare, or maybe, perhaps, Fuck, Marry, Kill?” 

“The second one sounds the most amusing. You go first.” 

“Well, we can’t exactly do dares in a small closet, can we? So if I have to go first, I’m picking truth.” 

“Alrighty. Who’s the hottest person in the session?” 

“Me. Ali, truth or dare?” 

“Dare. Fuck you.” 

“Okay, Ali, you don’t say your own dares, that’s not how the game works.” 

“Shut up, just give me a dare.” 

“What dares can you even do in a closet?” 

“I don’t know. I mean, I hid all my clothes, so there isn’t even anything I can try on.” 

“Dare you to… fuck me.” 

She quiets, then shrugs. “Okay.” Ali runs her fingers through his hair, somehow managing to get even closer. _Three, two, one –_

Rory begins to shriek. 

“ Woah! Woah! Calm the fuck down!” _Nice_. 

“ I take it back! I take it back!” 

“What? What do you mean?” Ali says, moving her grip from his shoulders to his waist. 

“No fucking in the closet! I take back the dare!”

Ali snickers. 

“Shut up!” 

“You’re all bark and no bite.” 

“ ...was that a dog pun?”  
Ali freezes. “Not on purpose. I swear.” She puckers her lips. “C’m’on, just one kiss –”

“ Get your  _ disgusting _ mouth away from me, you –”

“ You were just  _ kissing _ this ‘disgusting mouth’ yester –”

“ Who  _ knows _ where it’s been in the space of one day?!”

“Eating. And brushing my teeth.” 

“ _Disgusting_.” 

“ You’re disgusting!” 

“You’re disgustinger.” 

“You’re the one whose first dare idea is ‘ _fuck me_ ’ _!_ ” 

“Yeah, well, fuck you!” 

She leans back against the wall. “I’d love to see your virgin ass try!” 

“Fuck you as in ‘go impale yourself on a rusty fork’, not ‘go impale yourself on my dong’.” 

“Sure, that’s what you meant. Mister Rory ‘hate-date-and-dick-ride’ Diamond.” 

“Shut the fuck up before I beat you to death with my codpiece.” 

“Sadly, your codpiece is not with us. For it is out there. And we are in here.” _Y’know, really, this is just more of an opportunity to patronize him. The world would be a better place if everyone were as annoying as me_. 

“ I’ll beat you to death with the ghost of my codpiece.” 

“Try me, bitch.” 

“What does that even mean? Like, an invisible penis?” 

“Yes.” 

“Really? You can do that?” 

“Of course I can. Bard powers.” 

“I thought you didn’t know most of your powers yet.”  
“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” 

Rory covers Ali’s mouth with one hand. 

Ali licks the hand. 

“Ew!” Rory squeals, yanking his hand away. 

“Great,” Ali complains, wiping her tongue on her sleeve. “Now I have Rory germs in my mouth.” 

“Okay, so, fuck, marry, kill: Devon, Dirk, and Tommaso.” 

“Um… marry Dirk. Totally. And… kill Devon.” 

“So you’d fuck Tommaso?” 

“I wouldn’t fuck _anybody_ , but sure.” 

“You wouldn’t?” 

“Nobody. Sex isn’t really my thing… why? You sound surprised.” 

“No reason. Kiss, marry, kill, then.” 

“You don’t have to do that. Fuck, marry, kill: Tom, Navo, me.” 

“Kill Tom, fuck you, marry, um… Navo,” Rory says, his eyes dropping. _Nice move, jackass, Jesus, it'_ _s_ _been a day…_ “ Too easy. Fuck, marry, kill: your weird shirt you don’t want me to burn, Spades Slick, and that frog Dirk was talking about that one time.” 

“Juicy. Fuck the Timberlake shirt, kill Slick, marry the Geneva Frog. Fuck, marry, kill: your three favorite doggies.” 

“I’m not a fucking furry.” 

“Sure you aren’t.” She yawns, stretching. “Do you want me to change it?” 

“Make it, like, cuddle, marry, kill.” 

“Fine, then. Cuddle, marry, kill: the professor puppy and two others.” 

“Marry Jack Skellington, cuddle Knight Barkalot, kill Doctor Woofclaw.” 

“How scandalous.” 

“He does like to kingshame me.” 

  
  


♞

  
  


Ali awakens with a start. “WHAT’S GOING ON?!” 

“And I said: ‘heyeeyeyeyeyeyeyeyyeah’.”

“Oh, fuck you, asshole.” 

“I’d prefer you didn’t. I estimate it’s been about six hours.” 

“I’ll leave eventually,” Ali says, yawns, and slumps back down, her eyes closing again.

Beside her, Rory retrieves the bedazzler from his Sylladex. 

“HOW LONG WERE WE ASLEEP?!” Ali screams, leaping up again.

“No idea. Also, *you.” 

“Dirk and Tom could be ANYWHERE by now!” She tries, and fails, to pace in the limited space. “They’re gonna fucking kill you! How am I even supposed to protect you against _those two?_ You’re already as good as dead!” 

“I still don’t see how my death could be Just or Heroic. Don’t sweat it, Ali.” 

“But that doesn’t take away from the fact that I _need to protect you_ and I _don’t know how!_ ” 

“Know what would be good? You _not_ protecting me. From what admittedly little information I managed to glean about our ‘immortality’, that’s an easy way to die Heroically, Ali.” 

“I can’t just _not_ protect you! You’re my fucking kisses – kismeticist whatever-the-fuck!” 

“Kismesis. Say it with me. Kihz – mih –sihs.” 

“Kismesis, that thing.” 

“I’ll survive.” 

“What part of _I don’t care_ do you not understand?” 

“Fine, get yourself killed, then. See if I care.” 

“Fine! Help me figure out what I’m gonna do.” 

“Simple. Go up to them, and fight them. Kill Tom if you have to, only kill Dirk if _absolutely necessary_.” 

“ But that’s the thing. I can’t just kill them! They’re way too powerful!” 

Rory stares at her. “You can turn into pure Hope, Ali.” 

“There’s way too much meditation needed to do that quickly and repeatedly. And it _doesn’t_ help my weak-ass offensive skills.” 

“Get a better weapon, then. I could teach you magic.” 

“But I like my bow!” 

“Magic bow, then. Ali,” Rory says, taking her by the shoulders and staring seriously into her eyes (which is a little awkward, given that he’s the shorter of the two), “this is, quite literally, a life-and-death situation. You are being a _fucking idiot_. I would like you to stop.” 

“ Fine,” she says, “but first, we need to…” (she resists the urge to snicker…) “ _come out of the closet_. Anyway, give me a minute.” The Heir sits down, regulates her breathing, tries to think outside of the stench of cologne in this closet coming from Rory. Slowly, much too slowly for comfort, her limbs, then her torso, then her head is engulfed in bleached-sandy light, slowly filtering through the closet until Ali can reform on the other side. “Rory, I did it!” 

“ Congratu-fucking-lations.” 

“With an attitude like that, I won’t unlock the closet.” 

“Fine. Wow, Ali, I am overjoyed that you have escaped. I wish you the _best_ of luck in your battle.” 

“If I let you out of the closet, will you remove the stick from your ass?” 

“Yeah, sure.” 

She opens the door, gesturing dramatically as Rory shields his eyes from the sudden light. “Welcome to the outside world.” 

“Dear god, it’s even more ugly than I imagined. Oh, wait, that’s just you.” 

“Says the goblin that lives in my closet.” 

“Wow, rude.” 

“So is calling me ugly.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Fuck you. Now, do something useful or get out of my house.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tommaso approaches a particular Dersite tower on Skaia, a Voidish wand casually between his fingers. He never _did_ manage to find the recipe for an Orb of Obfuscation, but apparently there’s such thing as a _Donut_ of Obfuscation – and while it may have been a one-time consumable, and while it may have cost him pretty much _all_ his grist, secrets are worth their price to a Mage of Void. Around him, meteors fall, the Reckoning extended by days as Sburb tries to compensate for a core that isn't responding. _It's a good thing Dirk contacted me, or we might not have been able to fix this. Explains why Navo was able to join in something like three days after Ali. If the Reckoning had finished in a day like it was supposed to, that would've been a paradox..._

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **private messaging enthusiasticHeretic [EH]!** [8:44PM]

  


SS \---> EH: Are you still fucking crying in your tower over there? 

EH \---> SS: What’s it to you? Also language!

SS \---> EH: Are you fucking kidding me

SS \---> EH: grow UP oh my GOD

EH \---> SS: I can see you!

EH \---> SS: I don’t fight people who seem inebriated >:(. Plus I bet you can’t get in! Mr. Card has the place booby-trapped.

  
  


Tom flicks his wand and a section of the wall disappears into nothing, but, trying to enter, flies face-first into a wall that’s still there. _Right. Master of illusions._ He’s starting to regret sending Dirk after Rory alone. 

As if to answer Tommaso’s call, a large diamond shape appears on Devon’s door, script large and easily-read: _Come in_. Obviously a trap. Tom frowns and retrieves a magazine from his Sylladex, tossing it at the diamond emblem, which pops in an explosion of glass shards. Making sure to _actually delete them_ this time, Tom raises his god-tier cape, and that absorbs the rest, vanishing them into Void.

Cautiously, the boy enters. The tower, once Dersite, is now decorated in the cards’ four suits; it’s impossible to look in any direction without locating a club or diamond. Looks like the home of the Red Queen, or some shit. _If I was a pretentious prick whose ass is permanently glued to his high horse, where would I hide?_ The barracks appear to be filled only with Dersite residents, however. 

  


Meanwhile: 

At the explosion of the door, Devon curls up in his bed. Maybe if he makes it clear that he’s _not_ in a mood to fight, then Tom will leave… 

And maybe not. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Tom begins to search. 

  


Meanwhile: 

The sound of clattering tin and shattering porcelain piques Devon’s interest. _Is that_ hoodlum _going through my things?_ Oh, fuck this bullshit, he’s going down there. Retrieving his dice, Devon sneaks down the stairs, into the kitchen – his hair a mess, his god-tier clothing wrinkled, but what _ever_. It doesn’t matter how embarrassing his appearance is. _I just want Tommaso gone._

  


Meanwhile: 

In the middle of his search for the bedroom, Tom finds Devon, and smiles, switching out wand for sword immediately (he had only just Alchemi ted the wand, anyway – no practice with it). “Hello, Devon. It’s time for you to die.” _My name is Tommaso Mambelli. You kissed my boyfriend._ Tom’s smile grows wider. _Prepare to die_.

Devon sighs, annoyed. Haven’t they been through this before? _Here we go again._ Devon flashes into orange light, spreading out across the entire room for a haze of citrus. “How,” his voice resounds, “do you kill light?” And yet the dice stay somehow airborne, just waiting to drop.

“How about you stop being so rude? With darkness, I kill light, you giant _twat_.” With that the room is plunged into pitch black, and Tom can hear the grunt of pain as Devon reforms in midair and falls to the stone floor, before he can catch himself. 

“ Darkness,” he sneers, “is simply an _absence_ of light –” with that, the darkness seems to lift somewhat, but Tommaso clamps down on it, harder, _harder_ – “and I’m not a twat! I’m not the rude one! You are! You’re barging into my house when I’m very _emotional!_ ” Devon crosses his arms; his dice return his to hands. “Can’t you just leave me alone? Don’t you have better thing to do?” 

“ Oh,  _ wah _ ,” Tom mocks, “please don’t kill  _ me _ , I’m too angsty! Look, you can either get over it and fight me so we can have a fulfilling ending to this rivalry, or you can just stand there and let me kill you. Here, I’ll even let you have the first swing at me!” Tommaso drops his sword, which clatters into his Sylladex as a wisp of shadow catches it surreptitiously, and sticks out his tongue at the Heir.

“Well,” Devon huffs, “if you’re going to be this _uncivilized_ , then I’ll _have_ to eliminate you.” As soon as he throws his dice, though – _all fives, not bad_ – Tommaso whips a short, black rod, and all three disappear. “That’s not fair!” 

“ Life’s not fair,” Tommaso says, and it is pure, dumb luck that as he steps forward, ready for his next move, Mr. Card’s trap activates. 

Just as the invisible machine gun in Tom’s other hand spits out its spray of bullets, the sign of clubs appears in front, behind, and to Devon’s sides, blocking all bullets, on-mark and stray, and bolts of electricity emanate from the dice falling from the ceiling, casings and magazines melting into unusability. “A real man,” Devon lectures, “wouldn’t try to attack their opponent with a cheap trick like that.” 

“Then I guess I’m no real man, or at least not one that meets _your_ standards. Really, though, a real man is someone who cares less about chivalry and more about getting the _fucking_ job done.” With that, he sprints forward, slashes through the clubs shields with Void, wand back in his hand. An edge of shadow slices into Devon’s arm – “That reminding you of anything? The last time I _beat_ you, maybe?” – and Devon hisses in pain, hopping back, but before Tommaso can land a killing hit, the dice spin again, and a katana appears in Devon’s hands, pure Light to combat his darkness. 

“Not running like a coward this time, huh?” Tom says – tries to cut through the blade – sidesteps, receiving a slash to the shoulder for his efforts. “That dicekind bullshit is just as annoying as I remember it.” Diving, he escapes another blow, and manages to snatch a couple dice – he throws them – _Good thing I Alchemi_ _t_ _ed those specibi cards –_ but the lights come back on, full force, as snake eyes stare back up at him. 

Devon chuckles. “Only the luckiest people in the _world_ can get anything decent out of these dice. And, _luckily_ , there aren’t too many people like _that_ on Skaia at the moment.” With that, he tosses a single die (and somehow rolls a seven on a d6), and each other die in the room rolls itself; Devon glows blue for a hot second before the color fades, and his actions are quicker, smoother, slicker. He charges –

But by the time the blade gets there, Tom is elsewhere. “Well, that’s unfortunate; I suppose I’ll have to even the playing field.” The lights go out again, and with algorithmic swipes of his wand, the dice disappear. He can feel Devon trying to light up again, but with all of Tommaso’s concentration on Void (and none on attacking), the room remains black. 

“ And your shadows are still as annoying,” Devon grumbles. He steps to the side, searching for something to help, and hits a desk… within which are his  _ spare _ dice. How very…  _ lucky _ . “It’s a good thing,” Devon says, “that I don’t need to see you to hit you.” He rolls the dice, and Tommaso grunts in pain – the arrows have hit.

“ You’re not going to get out of this  _ that _ easily. You’re in the dark now; this is my domain!” He tosses Sylladex’d items outward in all directions, triggering a number of traps, but, focusing on the Void around him, the Light has no choice but to be redirected at Devon  Hart . From somewhere downward and in Devon’s direction comes a long groan. It doesn’t seem like he’s getting up. Tom lets up on the Void just enough to see Devon, on his knees, throw three dice and slump to the floor. Despite Devon’s inactivity, a vaguely demonic creature forms in the air before them  as the dice glow red …

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Tom yells, consolidating the remaining Void into his wand. _I doubt that fucking_ Satan _of all things is going to be inconvenienced by not being able to see._ “ Remember me? I offered you my teddy bear’s virginity! Good times, right?” 

“Ironicus est. Spero scis quam ironicus hic est. Indico, di immortales.” _I hope you know how ironic this is._

Tom kneels to the sprite. “Me succurre et condona meus luxuria iraque ut Devonus possum necare.” _Help me_ _kill him._

“ Merda sanctus.” 

“?”

“ Me crede, Tommaso, habeo tu iam. Habe benedictio meus.”  _ I own you already. You have my blessing. _

“Gratiae.” Tom stands, approaches Devon, who’s still on the floor. “Hey, so, um, I’m gonna, like… yeah.” 

Satan turns away, snickering. “Sicuti tu cohibebam.” 

Tom coughs awkwardly as he slides his shadow sword into Devon’s body. It seems kinda cheap to kill him while he’s down, but… 

  
  


The **Heir** of **Light** is now **dead**!

  
  


_I guess it fits, being a Void player. And, like, I just killed a Light player, so he, like, ran out of luck, or, uh…_ Whatever. He can create a database of witty one-liners later, when he has less on his mind.

  
  


_HEROIC._

  
  


Minutes in the past, but not many: 

Just as Tommaso first reaches Devon’s door, Dirk alchemites.

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **private messaging derseSovereign [DS]!** [8:44PM]

  


ER \---> DS: rory

ER \---> DS: help me please

ER \---> DS: fuck fuck fuck where are you

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory checks his phone. 

  
  


DS \---> ER: Dirk, dear, are you alright? 

ER \---> DS: i need you rory tom wants to fucking kill you and i dont trust ali not to let it slip so i didnt tell her but im here pretending to still like tom but im just afraid of what hell do to me rory and i need to get away

ER \---> DS: he left me alone a minute ago, i dont know where he is

ER \---> DS: please just tell me where you are so i can find some refuge

DS \---> ER: Book it. I’m at Ali’s house. <>

ER \---> DS: thank you rory

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now **Traveling**!  [8:45PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Thank goodness for Alchemitrical data plans. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali naps on the couch. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk stands before Ali’s front door, the quiet noises of the Land of Aurora and Masquerade surrounding him. LOAAM is one of the few planets with a day/night cycle, without its own satellite suns or lack thereof tuned in their revolutions to the host planet's rotation, and the night around him is cool and sweet and even a little comforting. 

  
  


ER \---> DS: rory im here

  
  


Dirk pauses to steel his nerves. _For the greater good, always for the greater good_ … Flying a circle around the perimeter of the house, Dirk locates one bedroom with jagged edges to the window. “Rory?” he whispers, his voice weary, but hopeful. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory moves to the window, his feet an inch off the ground. He smiles. “It’s okay, I’m here.” 

Dirk smiles in return, warm and soft. “Come outside with me, my beauty. I want you to see the stars out here.” 

“Alright. I’m a bit shaky, flying, but…” Careful to avoid the jagged glass, Rory levitates slowly out into the night sky. 

Dirk rises up into the air to catch him, staring into his eyes. “Rory… I missed you.” 

“I missed you, too, Dirk. Life’s been hell with only my kismesis to keep my company.” 

Dirk nods, not really paying attention, studying Rory’s face, his bones, his structure. “Look up, my love, look at the stars. For the first week and a half we were here, the sky above Aurora and Masquerade was full of piercing daylight, but it’s not anymore. Evening has passed and dusk has gone on its way. Night has fallen, and isn’t it beautiful, my love?” 

“You’re very poetic, aren’t you, Dirk? Yeah, it’s pretty fucking pretty. Like you.” 

Dirk smiles. “You were always the prettiest thing in my life, Rory. I’m so glad I get to be here with you…” He shakes his head, smiling sadly. “Oh, Rory, there’s so much pain here. Why can’t we just escape this? Run off together into the secretive void of the universe?” The smile fades from Dirk’s face, leaving only furrowed brows and a bleeding lip. “Navo is dead, Rory. And isn’t that just so fucking _sad?_ She’s not coming back, Rory.” Dirk is the one staring up into the sky, now, and his lip is bleeding a little bit more, the cut a little bit widened. “I guess I didn’t think that anyone would really _die_ …” He sighs. “At least you’re here now, Rory. I get to be here with you, and –” his voice catches – “and we can fight them off, can’t we? Just – Just be _here_ ,” he chokes, “you and me, can’t we just be together?” 

“Of course, Dirk. I’ll stay with you, always,” Rory says, reaching up to cup the side of Dirk’s hard face, all angles (soft skin), papping it gently.

“Rory?” Dirk says, his eyes full of pain and love. “Kiss me?” 

Rory closes his eyes, purses his lips, leans forward; a blush spreads across his cheeks. 

Dirk closes the gap, his lips warm and soft and pressing against Rory’s. “I love you, Tom,” he murmurs, and as he pulls away, Rory’s head topples from his shoulders.

  
  


The **Bard** of **Heart** is now **dead!**

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ Rory?” Ali says, awakening again to a _thud_. “You doing something?” 

  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk steps back as Rory and his head fall to the ground, peering at the puddle of sickly blood, brackish with dirt and black against the LOAAM mirrors in the dark of night. 

_Just_ , he thinks, satisfied, as he smiles and kicks off for LOPAR. 

  
  


ER \---> SS: meet me on lopar for planning??? Come on, itll be poetic as shit. 

ER \---> SS: shes the first person we ever killed together. <3

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Rory?” He’s not in the bedroom.

  
  


SS \---> ER: Great timing, love! I just took care of Devon, so all we need to do now is, like... win the game? 

ER \---> SS: dont worry, ive got sarah and the dogimps on it. all we still need to do is kill slick. alis about somewhere, but she wont be a problem. 

  
  


“Rory, did you go somewhere?” She wanders out to the window, looking out over the twilit horizon. 

She looks down. 

  
  


SS \---> ER: We can kill her if need be. I’d rather not now that Rory’s powers are gone, but you never know! See you on LOPAR, honey~

  
  


Ali’s eyes widen.

Her body shakes. 

Her eyes fill with tears as she floats down to the body. 

_And who do I know that decapitates people?_

Utter ire flows through her as she storms back into the house, the door slamming shut. _Hope is fading fast_. There’s no way that she can stay who she is now and avenge Rory; she’s too weak. 

  
  


SS \---> VP: Do you want to win? 

SS \---> VP: If you do, then you’re going to stay out of our way, got it? 

VP \---> SS: what have you done

SS \---> VP: I’ve won.

SS \---> VP: Won is what I’ve done. 

SS \---> VP: And winning is what I shall be doing until I have my future with Dirk. 

VP \---> SS: WHAT have you DONE

VP \---> SS: WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO HIM

SS \---> VP: He was in the way of happiness. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Rory’s body glows with a faint multichroma. Lifting off the ground, hovering in the air, his head reattaches to his neck.

Without hesitation, he _nyoom_ s away into the night. Time to find the two lovers, and… 

_Make._

_A._

_Mark._

  
  


SS \---> VP: Get in the way, and it turns out you die. 

SS \---> VP: Now if you excuse me, Dirk and I will kill fucking Slick together - you know, like you haven’t been able to do all session - and escape into the new world as gods. 

  
  


**vividParadox [VP]** ’s device is now destroyed! [9:03PM]

  
  


SS \---> VP: Ah, I see that you’ve opted to flee. 

SS \---> VP: Well, have fun, and remember: we’re in control. 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Offline!** [9:03PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Ali stomps into the living room. She’s too weak. There’s nothing she can do, not like… this. 

So she makes herself stronger. 

_Devon will be the only one in the new world, I suppose…_

_I can deal with that._

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk hovers above the waves on LOPAR, faint saxophone in the distance. _Even after all this time, her sprite is still here, calming the waves…_ She’s not very good at it. The waves are choppy and angry, but they could be much, much worse. Navo’s sprite is doing her best. Still, it’s not safe to touch down on dry land, so Dirk hovers there above the waves and waits for his true love. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

On the Land of Pirates and Rocks, Tommaso completes the rendezvous with his beloved. He has to break a window to get into the house, but it’s not like Navo’s going to mind, since she’s dead.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Above the sound of crashing waves and faint jazz, Dirk manages to hear a window shatter. 

  
  


ER \---> SS: are you here???

SS \---> ER: Lol yeah but can you find me? ;)

  
  


The Prince of Blood focuses, and beneath him, the water separates into its composite elements, hydrogen and oxygen dissipating into the atmos. The sea parting continuously beneath him, Dirk floats forward toward Navo’s home, a similar bubble around him preventing water from touching his clothing. 

Dirk knocks on the door, smiling. 

“D’aw, you’re so _cute_ when you’re destroying shit! Come in here,” Tom says, kissing Dirk. Mm, minty. “I trust you killed him?” 

“Of course, beautiful. Head came rightoff.” Dirk leans forward and kisses again, grinning against Tom. 

“We’re almost done, love. All we have to do is kill Slick and enter the new universe. You said Sara and the Dersites are handling the rest?” 

“Of course. I'm her nephew; she trusts me.” 

“Let’s go to Derse now and get it over with. My God, we might be able to finish this hell today!” 

“Sure that’s where we’ll find him?” 

“It’s a good place to start!” 

“What are we waiting for, then?” Dirk says, rising an inch, two inches into the air, unable to contain his excitement. “Let’s go! We can be – We can be together, _forever_ , by midnight on LOAAM!” Dirk throws back his head and his giggles give way to full laughs, bubbly, ecstatic sounds of pure happiness. 

Overjoyed by Dirk’s pure reaction, Tom grabs him and pulls him close, flying for Derse. _Fucking chess piece won’t know what hit him!_

They get to Derse. “Um, okay, so I have literally no idea where Slick would actually be, we have a whole planet to search. Also, a moon. You?” 

“ The throne room, perhaps?” Dirk shrugs. “In all honesty, I don’t think we’ll find him on our own.” He beckons a nearby Dersite servant. “Where’s Slick?” 

  


Meanwhile: 

A sudden crash. Ali hides. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Hello, little dog-pawn-man? Do you know where I can find the Archagent Slick? We have very important information about King Rory’s death.”

More Dersite servants approach Tom and Dirk, growling in synch. One of them, dressed in a knight’s clothing, leads the soon-to-be fray. 

“Hey,” Dirk says, “I think I recognize him… _Barkalot?_ ” 

“You killed our King,” the knight barks. “Prepare to die.” 

“For fuck’s sake,” Tommaso mutters, vanishing them both. Dirk swipes a hand and the heads come off of four of them at the same time; he repeats the move and decapitates another three. _Great, just eight left…_

“ Remember the Queen? They’ll smell us, love,” Dirk reminds Tom. “I figure we kill them?” 

“Ah, fuck, I guess so,” Tom says, reappearing and launching them both into the sky where they can’t be reached by melee. “Who knows? If we kill enough, maybe Slick will come out to see what the fuck is happening.” Tom puts a few puppies to sleep, hopefully in both senses of the word. Beside him, Dirk throws out a few more hand motions, most of them fancier than they are effective, but finishes off the last six in similar ways. 

Yet more approach. They’re like fucking _hydras_ – and each wears a hand-knitted, monogrammed sweater, except for a few wearing the intricate outfits that show their feudal status. 

“ There’s better places to do this,” Dirk calls to Tom. 

“You lead, I’ll follow and, hopefully, make them lose us.” 

All howl in unison and charge. Many in the front fall asleep, and several crash into the now-sleeping puppies; Dirk darts beneath a nearby roof and breaks through it, collapsing a section (and a rather large section, too, purely out of spite). The rubble crushes a few; his cutting motions kill more. 

“Alright, love?” Dirk says, grinning.

The last dog, equipped with a white lab coat, hurls what appears to be a dog treat in Tommaso’s direction; as it explodes, he flees. 

“Tom, are you alright?” Dirk says worriedly, rushing to his love’s side, but – 

“Never been better,” he says, grimacing. From a higher vantage point, he has a great view of the city.

That’s when the second bomb goes off, attached with a Dersite hyperglue to Dirk’s shoe.

Dirk is blown backward, out of sight for a few moments, his flying out of commission, before his head pokes up again over the side of a nearby cathedral’s roof. He looks rather dazed. “The fuck was that?” The pain hits him – “ _AAAAAAAAAHHH!_ ” 

  


drwoofclaw:

mixed some potassium nitrate with charcoal and sulfur powder. almost died. looks like ive invented a new explosive. hows that for failure, @knightbarkalot? 

  
  


“Dirk, are you okay?”

“ Yes,” he grunts, “yes, I’m great, it’s just that my  _ leg _ is  _ off _ – ”

With expert alacrity, Tom waves his wand, and pales as skin stretches over the wound… 

“Fuck,” Dirk says, “what did you do, shit…” 

“I made the wound non-existent,” he says shakily. “It –”

“It doesn’t matter,” Dirk says immediately. “I can live with this, I just – I’m not losing blood, now, so it’s fine, it’s not like I have to walk on it.” He coughs. “There’s smoke _everywhere_. I suggest a tactical retreat, Tommaso.” 

“ We’re not retreating,” Tommaso mutters, “we’re advancing in reverse.” Raising his voice, “I’ll try to block their sense of smell and keep you invisible, but no promises. I’ve only worked with sight before, so…” 

“Slick’s probably elsewhere, yeah?” 

“You run to the – uh, fly, sorry – to the biggest castle, I _think_ I saw Slick there, we’ve got great surveillance from up here and I _am_ the Mage of Void. I’ll provide a bit of distraction and catch up with you.” 

Dirk kisses him on the cheek and dashes off in the direction of the Royal Cathedral, full fuckening speed. Once out of range of Tommaso, he reappears, and Tom follows, invisible. Dirk snaps his fingers and a hole is blown in the cathedral wall in one of its highest levels as an atom fissions and its energy is released into the atmosphere. The carapacian polishing his cane within is blown back, and one can practically see the _!!!_ above his head.

“Nice explosion,” Tom whispers. “If decapitation doesn’t work, we can always use that.”

“Good thinking,” Dirk agrees, apparently to thin air. He turns to the carapacian: “We need to find the Archagent. Do you know where he is?” 

_Turn back_ , whisper the Dark Gods, but Tom ignores them. 

The carapacian looks up at them, nodding, reaches into his hat, and throws them something. 

Tom catches it. 

Dirk drops out of the sky. 

Tom throws it back and promptly fucks off as the C4 blows up about a third of the floor. 

“Goddamn motherfucking mini bosses,” Dirk mutters as Clubs Deuce runs the fuck away, returning to Tommaso. “This is getting stupid.” He makes a pushing motion, and an explosion rocks the building once more, a newly-made hole in the wall allowing them entrance. 

“You fucking go, Dirk!” 

“Thank you, my love,” Dirk says, striding inside the building. There’s two directions they can go from this hallway: forward and to his left… 

“I go forward and you go left?” Tom suggests. “If you find him, yell.” 

“Agreed.”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

A labcoat-wearing canine kneels down next to a sleeping knight and slaps him the fuck across the face. The knight jolts awake. 

“You idiot, you could have gotten yourself killed,” Woofclaw chastises, and the knight laughs. 

“I’m fine, Doc. I survived.” 

“Yes, but you _could_ have _died_ ,” his kismesis points out. “I worry about you, Barkalot.” 

“You fucking sap.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk opens a door. It’s a broom closet. 

He opens another door. 

It’s another broom closet. 

He opens another door. It’s a sauna. 

He closes that door. Carapacian dick is not something he needs right now. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ Oh, Slick,” Tom si ng s, “where the fuck  _ are _ you~”

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Inside the sauna, Hearts Boxcars looks up briefly at a mysterious visitor through the obfuscating steam, then shrugs as the door closes and turns back to his special edition of _Red Cheeks_. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“ DIRK!” \-- Dirk freezes – “I FOUND THE LITTLE SHIT!” That was fast. Within seconds of the echoes of Tom’s shout reaching Dirk’s ears, he’s kicked off of the corner turn, using a sick-ass wall jump to preserve his flying momentum. Dirk skids to a halt beside Tommaso. 

They stand (well, Tom does) in a large throne room, but not _the_ throne room. Probably Slick’s office… Also, probably a decent guess for where he would likely have been in the first place. _Oh, well. 20/20 hindsight._

“ Well, well, _well_ , who do we have here?” 

“Cut it with the smug bullshit, kid. I have the scepter. You think your paltry little Void powers are going to do jack shit against the King of Derse?” Jack’s tentacles begin to unfurl… 

“Scepters are the weapons of cowards,” Dirk proclaims, “afraid of progress. Put it down and let’s have a real fight, yeah?” 

“Oh, fuck, I forgot about that,” Tom whispers. 

“What’s even in there?” Dirk laughs. 

“A teddy bear,” says Tommaso, “a Disney princess, and…” 

Dirk pales. “Satansprite.” 

“This… This is bad,” Tom says. “If you –”

The sphere atop the Black scepter shatters, the force blasting its shaft from Slick’s hand, and both Spades and Tommaso swivel to stare at Dirk, fingers poised to snap again. “Sorry,” he says, smirking, as Spades Slick returns to an average Black carapacian. 

Tommaso snickers. 

Dirk growls, low, and even as Slick rushes him, he swipes. 

Blood, spurting. 

A Black, Carapacian head, falling. 

“Holy _shit_ , you know, now I see why I forgot about him in the first place,” Tom laughs. “This was _way_ too easy. Now, we just need to get to the Victory Platform on Skaia –” he pauses – “did Sara prepare everything?” 

  
  


Congratulations, players! You have defeated the Black King!

  
  


Dirk holds up one finger, texting. 

  
  


ER \---> SQ: hows it going??? im afraid the sentinels of derse have been convinced by rory to turn against us - i hope they didnt harm you???

SQ \---> ER: IM FINE. I DID EVERYTHING YOU SAID.

SQ \---> ER: THE G FROG IS NEARLY READY.

SQ \---> ER: I KILLED YOUR DENIZEN, & ROSE KILLED ONE OF THE OTHERS. 

SQ \---> ER: BLITZY HERE USED HIS NEWFOUND POWER TO MAKE DEALS WITH TWO. 

SQ \---> ER: THE PROSPIT ARMY SHOULD HAVE TAKEN CARE OF THE OTHER TWO.

ER \---> SQ: are you sure you dont want to come with us???

SQ \---> ER: I TOLD YOU, ILL BE THERE WHEN I NEED TO BE. DONT WORRY ABOUT ME. I JUST HAVE SOME THINGS TO TAKE CARE O. 

SQ \---> ER: JUST DONT GO IN UNTIL IM AT THE PLATFORM, OKAY? 

ER \---> SQ: of course. slick is dead; see you there. 

SQ \---> ER: SEE YOU, D.

  
  


**entropicRelativity [ER]** is now no longer **private messaging saraQuintana [SQ]**!  [9:33PM]

  
  


“Let’s get to the platform.” 

  
  


♞

  
  


“Now, remember,” Dirk says again, “Ali might come after us, but we _have_ to wait for Sara before we enter, okay? I’m _not_ leaving her here to d –”

“I know, my dear, I know,” Tom replies, for maybe the third time. “We don't know how the Platform works. We won’t leave her.” 

  
  


SQ \---> ER: D, WE HAVE A PROBLEM. 

SQ \---> ER: TWO O THE DENIZENS ARENT DEAD, BUT THEYRE IN HIDING. BLITZ THEORIZES THEY HEARD ABOUT OUR TEAM. HE SAYS THE GAME THINKS ITS UNFAIR, & WITH HIS POSITION, I BELIEVE THAT HE WOULD BE SENSITIVE TO THAT KIND O THING. 

SQ \---> ER: HES THE SEER O SPACE, & EVEN HE CANT FIND THEM.

ER \---> SQ: what does that mean, sara???

SQ \---> ER: IF WE CANT FIND THEM, WE CANT DEFEAT THEM. 

SQ \---> ER: IF WE CANT DEFEAT THEM, WE DONT HAVE ENOUGH GRIST FOR THE UA. 

  
  


“Fuck,” Dirk says, his head in his hands. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” 

“What is it?” 

“The Ultimate Alchemy,” he says, tears threatening. “The denizens are in hiding, they found out about Sara going around, she _apparently_ formed some kind of team with Blitz and Prospit to take them down…” He looks at Tom, his eyes filled with pain, with despair. “Tom, without the Ultimate Alchemy, the Genesis Frog doesn’t mature. We took the core out of Skaia, and it's been days and the Reckoning hasn't ended yet because the core hasn't been destroyed and the game is confused just like you said but even though the place for the Frog to _grow_ is protected, we might not have the _resources_ for the fucking Frog.We can’t _win_ without the Ultimate Alchemy.” 

“Shush, my dear, it’s okay, we’ll figure it out…” His eyes slide to the side. “How big of an explosion can you make?” 

Dirk turns in the direction Tom is looking, and a grin begins to spread across his face as he understands his intentions. “I’d prefer to have some lead to shield us from the radiation,” he says, “but I suppose a hell of a lot of paradox space will have to do. Ready, love?” 

Tom wraps his arms around Dirk and smiles. “Ready.” 

Dirk raises his hand and snaps his fingers. Miles in the distance, nothing seems to have happened for half a second - then – 

_Boom_. 

Their hearing goes for a second, but it comes back in under a minute. 

Far in the distance, the planets have been knocked ever-so-slightly out of orbit, and Derse no longer hangs in the air. 

  
  


+999,999,999,999,999 Misc. Grist

  
  


“I think I maxed my grist counter.” 

“I’m so in love with you, Dirk.” 

  
  


SQ \---> ER: HOW DID YOU GET ALL THAT GRIST THAT FAST?

SQ \---> ER: ACTUALLY, I HAVE A FEELING IT WASNT LEGITIMATE, SO GO AHEAD & DONT TELL ME. 

ER \---> SQ: is it enough??? 

SQ \---> ER: I THINK WEVE EV

ER \---> SQ: sara???

SQ \---> ER: You’re going to pay. 

  
  


**saraQuintana [SQ]** ’s device has been destroyed! [10:00PM]

  
  


Meanwhile: 

Dr. Woofclaw, Sir Barkalot, and Clubs Deuce look down forlornly at the explosion below them. The canine imps whine, and Clubs looks down at his C4, wishing _his_ explosions were that big.

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Something’s wrong,” Dirk says. “We need to go, Tom, we need to make sure the Alchemy gets done –”

“Where?” 

“The Forge should be on the Space player’s land. That would be… Blitz. Do _you_ remember which one was his?” 

“I forgot he existed, to be perfectly honest.” 

  
  


**sexySlytherin [SS]** is now **Online!** [10:00PM]

  
  


SS: Blitz what the fuck have you been offline the entire time? 

SS: Blitz? 

  
  


**prospitianMonarch [PM]** is now **Online!** [10:00PM]

  
  


PM: Don’t worry about it. 

SS: Well now that I know you exist

SS: wait wtf “Prospitian Monarch”? 

PM: Don’t worry about it. 

ER: what about the ua??? 

PM: The Dersite army attacked us, but it’s happening. Stay at Derse. I’ll take care of your aunt, Dirk. 

PM: What the Dersite army didn’t expect was that the Prospitians would have their own royal forces, outside of the battlefield. Their reinforcements are slowing. 

PM: In fact, I don't believe they're sending any anymore.

PM: Don’t worry about us. 

PM: Get to the Victory Platform; we’ll meet you there. 

PM: Kick this game’s ass.

PM: by the way im dating your aunt lmao

ER: WHAT???

  
  


**prospitianMonarch [PM]** is now **Offline**!  [10:02PM]

  
  


**prospitianMonarch [PM]** is now **Online!** [10:02PM]

  
  


PM: You are all my bitches. 

  
  


**prospitianMonarch [PM]** is now **Offline** **!** [10:03PM]

  
  


“What the _fuck?_ ” Tommaso whispers. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Dirk says tiredly. “At this point, I just roll with it.” 

“Isn’t she, like, fifty?” 

“She’s around thirty-five, you jerk, she just works her ass off.” 

“Blitz is _eighteen_.” 

“ Like I said. Don’t worry about it.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Leave me alone,” says a quiet, thirteen-year-old girl’s voice. “Please, don’t come any closer.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Oh, my god,” Tommaso says, awed. “It’s the – the ominous door thing that the _Dark Gods_ told me about!” 

A door, dissected into sevenths, the doorknob sparkling with lost memories, found memories, memories that will never come to be… 

Dirk alights on the platform, looking back at Tom. “You should do the honors, my love, once Sara and Blitz get here. The leader has to touch the doorknob to begin the process. You just have to get through the door.” 

Tom turns, just a little. “You didn’t tell them what it _took_ to get here, did you?” 

“Do you think I’m an idiot?” Dirk sighs, his clothes flapping in fission-produced wind. “Maybe one day we can tell them. If we think they’ll understand why it had to happen. For now, they don’t need to know.” Dirk takes Tom’s hand and steps forward, kissing him softly, hand on Tom’s chest. 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

The footsteps draw closer. “Don’t! You’re not gonna like what you see!” 

  


Meanwhile: 

Dirk breaks the kiss, looking down at his lover contentedly. “I love you, Tommaso.” 

Tom smiles, like his heart is going to melt. “I love you, Dirk.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Ali,” says a flat, familiar voice, “what the fuck.” 

She straightens up, her tail curling. “I thought you were fucking _dead!_ ” 

“Well, obviously, I’m not. Didn’t anyone ever tell you to never turn your back on the body?” 

“You were decapitated! I just fucking assumed!” 

“And… Ali, what did you _do?!_ ” 

“What I thought I had to,” huffs the newly-programmed guide. 

1 19


	26. Nativity

Wednesday, November 18, 2015: Part Two

“It is a cruel world in which we live. And in which I immediately regret this decision.” 

“It doesn’t matter now, anyway. I assume you have some hella sweet guide powers?” 

“I don’t know. I don’t care!”

“But, I mean, if you _did_ have epic guide powers… we could kick Dirk and Tommaso’s asses into the motherfucking _stratosphere_.” 

“Do we want to?” 

  
  


RORY & ALIGUIDE: Kick Dirk & Tommaso’s asses into the motherfucking stratosphere?

  
  


NO YES >>HELL YEAH<<

  
  


“Hell yeah, we want to.” 

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to kill them,” she whispers. 

“They killed _me_ , Ali. They’re the reason you’re a guide!” 

“Well, the guide thing’s on me.” 

“Yeah, but if I hadn’t died, you wouldn’t be in this situation.” 

“Yeah, I guess.” She floats out from her hiding place behind the couch. “So how are we gonna do this?” 

“We find ‘em, and kill ‘em.” 

“Um, yeah, I assumed that. But, how, exactly? Tom and Dirk are both hella powerful.” 

“I have bone and soul magic. You have, presumably, epic sprite powers. We’ll ambush them, there’s no way they’d suspect it.” 

“Okay… I see. Do you want to do this ASAP?” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“Where the fuck is Sara?” 

“I don’t know, okay? All we have to worry about is Ali, though, and she can’t pose a threat, so just stay patient. She’ll get here.” 

  
  


Meanwhile: 

“That would be ideal; we don’t want them to get away.” 

“Alright, sounds good to me.” 

“Where do you think they’d be, though?” 

“They probably thought they’d won the game and are going to be at the platform thing-a-ma-jig.” Ooh, guide knowledge. You'd think the Buffy speak would lessen with it, but it really, really doesn't. 

“And do you know _where_ this platform thing-a-ma-jig is?” 

“It’s below Skaia. Or above it. Depends on how you look at it.” 

“Let’s get going.” 

Ali grabs Rory’s arm, staring into his eyes. “Are you sure?” 

Rory matches her gaze. “Never been surer. Here’s the plan…” 

  
  


♞

  
  


“So, that’s the plan.” 

“It’s _brilliant_ , Rory. I’m so glad that this isn’t some kind of work of fiction, or else it would surely have been omitted for the dramatic impact, since plans that actually _work_ are never shown on-screen. On the other hand, the author could be attempting a double-subversion in which the plan that’s not mentioned actually _fails_ …” 

“What?” 

“Forget it.” 

The Victory Platform floats into view. Tom and Dirk beside each other, hands clasped, backs to Rory and Ali, stare into an open doorway. Master of strategy as always, Rory _zoom_ s the fuck overhead, smashing into the Platform with a crash. “‘S’up, motherfuckers?” 

“Rory! You just wasted our element of surprise, you FUCK!” 

Tom spins around at the sudden noise, vanishing into Void; Dirk whips around and flicks his hand, but his aim goes wide and Rory’s left elbow is suddenly unhinged instead of his neck.

“Ow, fuck, this ain’t fair!”

“She’s a guide!” Dirk calls to Tom, ignoring Rory in favor of Ali. “Be careful, she’s powerful…” 

“Come on, Dirk,” Tom dictates, dashing to the door and yanking his love after him. “We’re leaving.” _I won’t let victory es – FUCK._

Sighing overdramatically, Rory reaches within himself. To all outside appearances, he seems to be reaching out to grab thin air, but – 

“ _Ouch_ ,” Tommaso says in a wavering voice, and falls to his knees, flickering into view, only a few feet from the door. “No – don’t worry about me, Dirk, go –”

Something snaps in Dirk's brain. **YOU WILL PRIORITIZE MY SAKE OVER YOUR OWN.** His neck twists...  “ _You_ ,” Dirk says, deadly cold, twisting to glare at Rory. 

"No –" Tom gasps – "fucking – how do I _cancel_ –"

“What the _fuck_ have you done?” Dirk gestures, and spiraling patterns slice into Rory’s skin, wrapping up and down his torso and cutting into his flesh. “I _decapitated_ you. How did you survive?” 

Ali rushes at Dirk, blasting a guidely laser, and his hand blackens, chars – he makes a noise of incomprehensible pain, then looks up at her, his eyes full of hate, and reaches out a hand not so badly burned. The edges of Ali begin to flutter… Rory grits his teeth through the pain, and he switches his focus to Dirk, and his muscles stiffen. _If I’m right – which I hopefully_ am _, though I’ve never had a test subject for this – stiffening my fist should mean…_

  
  


The **Prince** of **Blood** is now **dead**!

  
  


_...crushing the heart completely._

Ali’s edges regain opacity. 

“Dirk!” Tom shouts. “Fuck you, Rory, you’re always in the way! Fuck you, Rory, fuck you, Ali, fuck Navo, fuck Devon, fuck everything! I just wanted to live a life with Dirk in happiness, but I guess even _that_ has to slip from my hands, according to you, huh? Well, know what? I refuse to accept that fate. We won’t go down like that! Especially not with…” Tommaso reaches into his pocket and pulls out the juju, eyes blazing in rage and triumph. _The last Chekhov’s gun_ … Or he would, if it were still in his pocket.

Ali giggles. Floating above the palm of her hand is a coin that Tom finds familiar. “Sorry,” she says. “Momma never taught me that stealing was _wrong_.” 

“No,” Tom says, his heart pumping adrenaline through him. “Please, I don’t… _please_ , I just wanted to be happy… You can’t kill me, I’ll – I’ll –”

“You’ll get fucking _rekt_ ,” Rory spits in interruption, smirking.

  
  


_JUST._

  
  


“Would you like to do the honors, Rory?” Ali queries. 

“I think I would.” He reaches out, Tommaso’s heart and soul in his metaphorical, god-tiered hand. “Any last words?” 

“Oh,” Tom spits, his face twisted in hate, “fuck yourself gently with a _chainsaw_.” 

An unsettling grin settles onto Ali’s face. 

“See you in hell, asshole.” Rory does the honors. 

  
  


The **Mage** of **Void** is now **dead**!

  
  


“That’s it, isn’t it?” Ali says, looking down at them. “We did it.” 

  
  


_JUST._

  
  


Rory unclenches his hand and stares down at Tommaso’s limp, lifeless body, breathing hard. Fuck, his cuts _sting_. The adrenaline has worn off, and… _Whiplash_. _Did we really have to kill Dirk? It was Tommaso’s fault. His influence could’ve warn off, maybe_ … “Did we fuck up? I can't quite tell..." 

Ali’s voice is quiet. “Everybody fucked up. It wasn’t just us.” 

“We’re all fucked-up, period. We’re just kids, Ali. And look at us: most of us are dead, one of us was brainwashed, all of us are murderers… when did that _happen?_ ” 

“I don’t know what to tell you, Rory. In all aspects, the game itself was the one to cause all of this. We wouldn’t have – have _killed_ each other if we weren’t faced with unbelievable power and _conditional_ immortality. We were given the _false_ impression that we were justified in our doings. But, I… Whatever. I don’t think we’ll ever know how right or wrong our actions were. They succeeded, that’s what’s important.” 

“No!” Rory shouts, suddenly overcome by anger, glaring at Ali. “I won’t accept that! That’s _no_ kind of answer, is the idea of medieval, philosophical romance really _fucking_ worth fucking _murder_ for? Why couldn’t we have just! Talked! About our problems?! How can anyone say we _had_ to do this?!”

“That’s not what I’m saying! I don’t know, okay?!” Her voice catches. “We _all_ had issues that prevented us from ‘just talking’! Everyone was on _edge_ all the time, always thinking the other was plotting or something, it just got _chaotic_. And that’s what made this _shit_ , okay?” Tears roll down Ali’s face, her shoulders shaking. “We – _tried_ – talking – look where that led us, huh?! I fucking _wish_ we could’ve _really_ talked.” 

“It’s my fault,” Rory says. “I cut myself off from everyone _first_ , I can’t talk. I’m just as much to blame as everyone else. If only I wasn’t so fucking _obsessed_ with being the ‘Black King’ or any bullshit like that. Everyone I love is dead, I’m the only person who can even _leave_ this _hellish_ session, there’s blood on my hands.” 

Ali wipes her eyes with the back of her hands. “Whatever. You should be celebrating, right? You won, yeah? You did it.” Her words are cheery, but her voice falls flat.

“We’re lying to each other again,” Rory says, and that stops her short.

“Well, what do you want me to say?” 

“The truth.” 

“Fine. Tommaso and Dirk were assholes, but they didn’t deserve to die, not at the beginning. I don’t know what would’ve happened if we had done anything differently, but we’re here now, and we’ve won. You can leave this all behind, now, and start anew.” 

“As what? I have no idea what’s behind that door. It could be anything. Fuck, the reward could be _sudden death_ for all I know. And I have no one to share it with.” 

“Oh, yeah? No one to share it with, _what_ a problem. Be grateful that your body isn’t on the ground, okay? Be grateful your blood isn’t on someone else’s hands, be grateful you at least _get_ to _leave_.” 

“I just don’t want to be alone. I’m scared, Ali!” 

“I understand that, but you have to go. You’re the only person who can walk through that door!”

“Can’t I at least say _goodbye_ first? Are we just going to leave these bodies here?” 

“We can have – like – a funeral, if you want.” 

“I think I’d like that.” 

“Alright. Go get some flowers and I’ll… prepare the bodies, I guess.” 

“Where do I get _flowers_ from?” 

“I saw a hell of a lot on my land. I’m sure there are more on other lands, but I know for a fact there are some on my land.” 

“See you soon.” 

As Ali flies off with the bodies of Tommaso and Dirk, Rory stands there and watches the machinations of a ruined Skaia. 

In the distance, another silhouette approaches, from the opposite direction, clearly-Alchemited wings in its outline, and Rory struggles through single-letter signing as she tries to communicate. 

_B-L-I-T-Z-A-N-D-I-C-O-M-P-L-E-T-E-D-T-H-E-A-L-C-H-E-M-Y-B-U-T-T-H-E-D-E-R-S-I-T-E-A-R-M-Y-K-I-L-L-E-D-H-I-M_

There are tears in Sara's eyes. 

_H-E-I-S-A-L-L-I-H-A-V-E-L-E-F-T-S-O-P-L-E-A-S-E-M-I-J-O-P-L-E-A-S-E-T-E-L-L-M-E-W-H-E-R-E-I-S-M-Y-N-E-P-H-E-W_

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	27. Endings

#  Thursday, November 19, 2015

“What kind did you get? The green ones of the white ones?” 

“A mixture of both, actually. Where do I put these?” 

“I don’t know. Put one in their hands. Then put the rest by their feet.” 

Rory does so, making sure not to accidentally knock over the bodies, or anything. 

Somewhere behind them, Sara stands there, mourning the loss of her nephew and of her new flame. 

Ali steps back – as much as she can step, as a sprite - to take in the scene they’ve made. Above them, the lands in the sky of LOAAM shine bright – all but that of Tommaso Mambelli. “Anything you’d like to say about them?” 

“Just that I’m sorry it was like this. The two of them didn’t deserve to get fucked up like this, especially Dirk. I was meant to look after him, and I... I failed.” 

“I’m sorry I hurt Dirk,” Ali says on her turn, “I’m sorry I hurt Tom – hell, I’m sorry I hurt Navo and Devon. I’m just sorry I hurt any of you. We weren’t supposed to win like this,” she chokes out, her voice breaking. “This wasn’t, supposed, to happen.” She looks back at Sara and gestures, but Sara shakes her head. She doesn’t want to talk about her dead nephew. 

“I hope – well,” Rory says, “I’m not religious or anything, but I hope all of you guys are in a better place now.” He turns to face Ali, with a sad little smile on his face. “I guess this is goodbye, isn’t it? Sara and I go through that door and I’ll never see you again.” 

“I guess it is… I’m really gonna miss you, Rory, even if I _am_ supposed to hate you.” 

“Yeah, I don't think we really did as good as we could've with that whole kismesis thing..." Rory shakes his head. "I can’t even hug you to say goodbye, can I? I know what happens when you have a guide that’s only been programmed once.” 

Ali nods. “I used my guidely telekinesis to show off that juju. Do you have anything lying around that you could program me with? I – I can’t say goodbye to you forever without one last hug.” 

“Well, there are the flowers. And, uh, that’s about it. Unless you want to be prototyped with one of the dead bodies.” 

“Flowers are okay. Get me a white one.” 

“Okay –”

– but Sara, ready for this, has already tossed a white flower in Ali’s direction, arcing gracefully in the moonlit sky (if the other lands can be called moons: they’re all moons of Skaia, kind of) before it reforms the girl into Flowisprite. 

Ali, no different except for a white lily tucked behind her ear, smiles. “Thank you. I just – I don’t think I’m ready to say goodbye. But I suspect it’s now or never, huh? If you stay here tonight, you’ll stay here forever.” 

“I could.” 

“No. No, you can’t. You have to go on. I’m a guide, remember? I'm here to keep you going." She laughs. "I’d never forgive you. Create the new world, Rory.” 

“I’m gonna miss you, Ali.” Rory gives Ali a tentative hug. 

She returns it, tightly. 

Really, really tightly. 

“Okay, Ali, ow, let go, you’re going to crush me to death.” 

“No way. Fuck you.” 

“Fuck _you!_ I gotta go claim the Ultimate Reward, you piece of shit,” Rory says, wriggling desperately to get free. He smacks her and she releases him. 

“That was uncalled for!” 

“Your face is uncalled for!” 

“We’re doing this again?” Ali sighs. “Your face is ugly!” 

“Your face is ugli _est_ , and that’s final.” 

“If my face is ugliest, then your face is the grossest.” 

“Fine, but at least I don’t have a flower butt.” 

“What? No, I don’t!” 

“It’s true! You have a floral-patterned _ass_.”

“I don’t believe you! Sara, do I have a floral ass?” 

Sara’s head is in her hands. 

Ali twists around to check herself. 

She has a floral-patterned ass. 

“Fuck you,” Ali says decisively. 

“Maybe later, Ali.” 

“I meant fuck you as in ‘go impale yourself on a rusty fork’, not ‘go impale yourself on my dong’.”

“I’ll try to get it done in the new universe. No promises, though.” 

“I would pay to see that shit. Too bad I don’t have the opportunity.” 

“Hey, you never know. Maybe all of you _will_ be resurrected when I go through that door. You may get to see me stab myself with cutlery after all.” 

“I doubt that’s what will happen, but, sure! That’s totally a possibility. But just in case that doesn’t happen…” She pauses. “I’m really going to fucking miss you, Rory.” 

“You too, flowerbutt. Though, actually, no, you won’t, you’ll be dead.” 

“Oh my god shut up. Don’t fucking call me that.” 

“Roseass. Dandelionbehind. Florabuttocks.” 

“King boner.” 

“Nerd.” 

“Asshole.” 

“Dork.” 

“Cherry! You’re a fucking virgin!” 

“Fuck you!” 

“I’d like to see you try!” 

Rory laughs, bittersweet, as Sara takes hold of his hand, and the two of them descend to the Victory Platform and walk through the door of a new universe.

  
  


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End file.
